As Clear As Mud
by pronker
Summary: When ObiWan and Anakin are thrown into a survival situation, they begin to question their MasterPadawan roles. This story's sequel is "Covalent Bonds." AU. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Title: As Clear As Mud

Rating: M

Characters: A/O, A/P

Time: Anakin is twenty.

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.

Summary: After being thrown into a survival situation, Anakin and Obi-Wan question their Master/Padawan roles. AU. Slash later on. There is a missing moment scene in another, briefer fic entitled, "Trailer Park Princess," set when Anakin is fourteen.

Part One

The planet Trow was a study in blandness. Its Galactic-Average-sized humanoids ate plainly, eschewing any spices for a nutritious though monotonous diet. Its terrain had hills, but no mountains; its oceans had no islands whatsoever, and its trees never topped five meters. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, newly appointed to the High Council, hated to bring excitement into its ordered existence, but his SoroSuub V-35 Courier was on fire.

"Master! Look out!"

Kenobi's twenty year-old Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, tore his gaze but not his hands away from the ship's dual controls, in time to see their little dejarik table torque loose from the cargo space behind the two pilot seats, rotate in midair, and crack the viewport, clipping Obi-Wan's skull along the way. The Master slumped in his seat, his hands still loosely clasping the control yoke. The approach vector wavered onscreen while Anakin watched. It blacked out for a second, then flickered into a sharp clear diagram before a final flare into blankness. _Kriff._ System after system shut down. He pressed the distress beacon signal just before it, too, winked to blackness. A quick visual above Trow's rapidly approaching surface confirmed that their destination, the southern regional capital of Nepsa, lay some fifty kilometers away. Anakin would worry about getting there when and if they set down onplanet.

Growling deep in his throat about funding for the Jedi Temple's Fleet Maintenance Program and grateful that this did not happen when he took the Supreme Chancellor out for a much-needed private getaway spin around Galactic City last week, Anakin spared a hand to snug down the straps on the crash webbing surrounding Obi-Wan. The Courier's ablative shielding kept them from incinerating as Anakin's firm grip guided the ship bumpily from the clear upper atmosphere through high clouds and then dense low fog. He cast about blindly, though in the Force, he was sensing a flat meadow with a broad river snaking through its wide expanse. The river could break their momentum if they hit it at the right angle. A last tug at the controls and then they hit, bouncing, splashing, finally settling half-submerged.

Fast-moving brown river water surged over their viewport as the Courier slowly sank. _Flood conditions. _Anakin scrambled for food pellets, shed his cloak, checked for his rebreather in its pouch on his belt as he tucked in the food pellets in the pouch beside it. A final tug to ensure his lightsaber's position and he was ready. The raging water now blocked the viewport completely. The ship began to plane slowly to the river bottom, who knew how many meters below. "Come on, Master." He undid Obi-Wan's crash webbing, said the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release in a breathless gabble while grabbing his collar with his left hand as the Master slid forward and shucked Obi-Wan's rich chestnut travel robes. Anakin began to cough in the growing smoky atmosphere. Fighting the deck's slant with difficulty, he swiveled Obi-Wan's seat before opening the man's legs widely and reaching in to grip one thigh for a shoulder carry. He clenched Obi-Wan's upper right arm over his shoulder and heaved.

Obi-Wan's eyes flickered open as he felt himself hoisted, swaying into the air giddily. "S-s-s-stop, Anakin. I can walk." They coughed together as flame finally overcame wires and safety circuits, touched the spilled nerf shortening in the galley from lunch and flared into something to fear. Anakin steadied a woozy Obi-Wan as the Master pointed to the emergency raft rolled around two segmented oars, all an easy-to-spot yellow. Their teamwork need no words at this point. Still with an arm about Obi-Wan's shoulders, Anakin punched the button to lower the ramp, hoisting the raft away from the ramp's sharp edges. The river attacked the cruiser, swirling muddy water into the passenger space, up to knees, thighs, necks quickly. Seeing that Obi-Wan carried a purpling bruise on his temple, but no other outward damage, Anakin lunged into the murk and stroked far enough away to twist the nipple that released the pressurizing gas. The raft leaped into being. He flung himself onboard with a loud squelch before grabbing Obi-Wan by arm and thigh, dragging him roughly over the gunwale.

They gasped together, wet though not cold in Trow's reddish sunlight. There was no sign of the Courier. Obi-Wan lay back, blinking in returning Masterly form as he asked, "Any idea where we are?"

"About fifty kilometers from Nepsa. River seems to be heading towards it." Anakin nodded in satisfaction. His Master was back with him; he had no desire to revisit the circumstances of Sugnid, when a variant of sleeping sickness claimed Obi-Wan for its next victim and Anakin had toted his Master in Tatooine-like heat for two solid days, all the while hydrating him forcibly. Anakin didn't think he would have made a very good healer then and he didn't think so now. The feeling of absolute helplessness during a loved one's suffering rankled his pride, and his knowledge of disease etiology was minimal.

"So the best place in the entire galaxy to be is here, floating towards our destination," Obi-Wan said with a small grin. "We're alive, my Padawan, we're alive."

The river abided.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Night fell quickly in Trow's summer. Both Anakin and Obi-Wan felt awed by the sheer width of the river, its shores barely visible in the thinning fog, as they moved along with no effort needed to steer. Such uncontrolled power made Anakin a bit nervous, while Obi-Wan rode through the darkness asleep, his form barely visible in the weak light of Trow's two small moons. When Anakin did fall asleep at dawn, Obi-Wan stirred.

"Gnnnnngh, by siduses ... bust've choked od da wader or idhaled or sobedig, Adakid ... oh." Obi-Wan glanced at his slumbering Padawan, arms and legs asprawl in heavy just-post-adolescence sleep. When Anakin was like this, Obi-Wan knew better than to disturb him and truly, there was no need. Barring disaster, they would arrive near Nepsa late day after tomorrow, although Obi-Wan didn't recall if the capital was precisely on the river or simply nearby. He moderated his time sense to alert him at that point and ran some internal diagnostics while he was at it: earache, headache, sinuses thumping against his brain or so it felt, bruise an unholy shade of purple on his right temple. He relaxed in a cross-legged position on the rippling floor of the raft, acknowledging and bending to the river's omnipresence. The bruise took a few minutes to heal, capillaries caressed with needle-fine shards of Force-power to stimulate his body's natural healing and if Anakin had been awake, he would have seen the bruise shade to brown, greenish-yellow, and finally dusky rose. The headache took longer. Neck muscles responded to thicker, finger-shaped pulses of the Force that kneaded and rubbed, trailing bliss from cervical vertebrae to occiput and back again. A delightful twenty minutes and he was done. Obi-Wan saved the most difficult healing for last, using a delicate technique he had learned from Luminara Unduli in a few weeks' lessons. It was his sinuses that throbbed and since they lay inside bone, Luminara thought that in emergency situations far from her gentle ministrations, he could learn to self-heal. So he breathed deeply and attacked his frontal sinuses with a molecule's width strand of the Force, sifting through skin cells and cartilage, arriving at a hollow almost filled with humid secretions. Obi-Wan sensed pressure and a nearly clogged release duct; he thickened the strand at the far end to a half-centimeter and drifted through the muck to probe gingerly at the opening. "Nyyynggh." Five minutes later, the technique worked and he gave his body a chance to adjust, refraining from clearing his throat or coughing, which would only start up the headache again. Then he proceeded to maxillary sinuses and finally he cleared his ear tubes, at last allowing himself a thorough hawking and spitting over the side of the raft. Really, he must treat Luminara to dinner for those lessons.

Anakin slept until late morning before lurching to his knees in the unsteady raft. "Gotta go, Master. Don't look." Obi-Wan and Anakin knew each other's habits so very well; Anakin had a shy bladder. Obi-Wan did as he had done on innumerable occasions and closed his eyes.

"Of course, Padawan."

By midday, the river had narrowed enough for them to spot jungle on each shore, multi-trunked trees festooned with tiny-leaved vines that had pale yellow blossoms. Shrill screams called across the water to them, evidently from flittering birds in large flocks. Now and again a groaning roar echoed. Narrowing the river had increased its speed and instead of a smooth ride, little bumps marked their progress. To avoid spinning, Obi-Wan traded coxswain duties with Anakin on an hourly basis, leaning into the paddle made into a rudder. It all could have been a vacation rafting tour had not the Billaqori Congress of Tribes been meeting in six days to discuss whether or not to allow Republic forces to establish a base near their equator. "Reps, not Seps," chanted a few groups of demonstrators in the holovid shown during the briefing last week.

_"Show the Billaqori the Republic way of doing things, Obi-Wan. You and your Padawan have an opportunity to demonstrate how democracy works, in reasoned debate and persuasion. Yet, if the Billaqori prefer the Separatists' way, be gracious in defeat, but before you leave," Mace Windu's voice hardened, "show them the Ohma-D'un holovid. The unedited one with the dissolved Gungans, the one even the **Galactic Intruder** refused to broadcast."_

_"Yes," Obi-Wan said slowly. "I hear now that the Gungans show it to their younglings from first school year onward. They pledge each morning to remember the atrocities."_

_Mace nodded grimly. "As they should." His face turned stony. "Before leaving their system, wait just out of orbit. I predict old Strenghis and his Cabinet will call you back double-quick."_

_Anakin had held his peace with difficulty. Indoctrination. Jar-Jar was responsible for this policy, he was certain. The last time they had seen him, Representative Binks' overweening attitude galled Anakin and disturbed him a bit. The lack of political training, much less ability, spurred Binks to bouts of patriotic speeches and even Boss Nass deferred to him sometimes. Padmé indulged Jar-Jar, Anakin thought, when she placed him on Propaganda committees. She wanted him out of her way, certainly. and designing slogans to go with enormous floating billboards must have seemed innocuous. Anakin wasn't so sure. He'd speak with her the next chance he got._

The river continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

"Anakin, hold still. You've a thing on your neck. Bend down a bit." Anakin obliged, glancing about alertly first. His nerves had not settled at all after two days, Obi-Wan observed. He bent up the left earlobe. There ... a creature? No. He prodded the thumbnail-sized orangish material before scratching it off with one fingernail. He sniffed. "Mold. It's mold."

_"Growing_ on me?" Anakin clawed at his neck. "Is there more?"

"Calm down, Padawan. We're bound to get a little fuzzy in this humidity. I have a partial solution."

"Just do whatever." Anakin ran his fingers through his Padawan-crop, lifted his braid, traced under his innermost tunic with a hurried hand. "Please," he added.

"We'll cut each other's hair."

Anakin stuttered, "N-n-not my braid! I've _worked_ for it, Master, and ... "

"No, that won't be necessary. We should trim our hair and armpits, my beard, sufficiently to air out as much skin as possible."

"How about down th-- "

"No, that's quite enough, Padawan. Here, you may do first honors." Obi-Wan lay back, the auburn strands of his full head of hair hanging limply in the still air. "Mind the raft."

Anakin glanced once at Obi-Wan's relaxed posture and decompressed a bit himself. He ignited his lightsaber. As was proper before touching his Master in a non-training capacity, Anakin closed his eyes briefly and accessed a dollop of steadiness by reciting the Respect-for-Master's-authority release.

Obi-Wan expected a tug and a shearing slice, repeated until the job was finished, and so was unprepared for the sensation of Anakin's long fingers sifting through his hair to snug themselves against his scalp. The hair protruded between Anakin's fingers as the lightsaber thrummed next to his left ear. "It's the way my Mom used to cut my hair," Anakin said softly. "'I'll be cut before you will,' she used to say." Back, sides, top completed, Anakin approached the beard in the same fashion.

Obi-Wan bared his throat, the better to allow an even job. At last, head and jaw, throat and sideburns sported no more than a pinkie's width of hair. "Thank you," he said. Anakin's head afforded a mere two minutes of effort. Obi-Wan hadn't cut Anakin's hair since the first Master-to-Padawan ritual cutting, when Anakin's tiny braid first dangled beneath his right ear. Obi-Wan ran his hand through the soft spikes, remembering for a moment, then snapped off the lightsaber. "Done. We can each do our own underarms." To Obi-Wan's expectations and Anakin's disgust, each pit bore the beginning spots of mold. "Don't scratch, Anakin. If the skin is broken, the spores may get into your system and do who-knows-what."

They hesitated before broaching the next topic. "I know that they're down below. I just know it. I can ... feel them crawling," Anakin blurted.

"'They' are neither sentient nor mobile. There's nothing for it but get through this, Padawan; by next Republic Day we'll laugh about this at the Temple picnic." Republic Day was at the end of the following month. Obi-Wan was certain that the picnic would not be cancelled due to the war. He had a hunch that wartime sentiment would exhort all demonstrations of patriotism into furious overdrive.

"Not me. A crash, nearly drowning, mold on our ... on our ... "

"Private parts," supplied Obi-Wan.

"Cock and balls," riposted Anakin.

"Ion cannon on a caisson."

"_Ion_ cannon? Haven't heard that one."

"They switched to repulsor lift right about the time that you were born," Obi-Wan said with a straight face. "Kept getting bogged down on swampy planets."

The river chortled.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

Early the third day, Obi-Wan nibbled on his 5,796th protein pellet. He calculated at each mission's meals, which turned out currently to be twenty-three years of extra-Temple missions, figuring approximately fourteen-day missions at six times per year, just about, and three meals daily, 5,796, yes, that's right. He drank thirstily from the survival kit's puffpackets of muja juice. The shores of the river appeared minimally closer now, but something else hove into view: a dam spanned the river seventy meters ahead. "Anakin."

"I see it." Anakin had been about to suggest a brief swim alongside while clinging to the raft with one hand. The humidity was getting him down and he wished that he had selected another color of uniform from the supply room than the absolute deepest shade of brown.

It was a pressed-soil dam. The current sped up noticeably and threatened to thrust them into one of the spillways at each end as it would any floating object, dropping them over the edge from an unknown height.

"Paddle hard for the midpoint." Obi-Wan said. The two Jedi strained for the center of the dam, oars in teamwork tandem. They knotted the mooring rope securely about a protruding root from a snagged timber. After climbing the eighteen meter-high structure to survey from the dam's peak, they saw that a trail zigzagged at the crest, any tracks deposited erased in soppy mud. At either end of the trail, jungles closed in, their trees an even fifteen meters in height. Clouds lowered from a gray humid sky and all in all, an abundance of Nature made the two men feel cosmically quite small.

Anakin scratched but could not reach a stinging insect welt in the middle of his shoulderblades. Obi-Wan obliged. "Ohhh, yes. That's sooo good. Lower, please." Anakin leaned into his Master's soothing fingers, eyes closing rapturously. Soon he could do this, too. After his Knighting, he would no longer need to murmur the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release. It was only one of the many privileges that he was looking forward to. His eyes popped open at the sound of a small squeak. A tiny rodent reared up on springlike hindlegs near his left boot. It observed him with a pair of bulging eyes, rubbing its clawed forelegs nervously together. He moved closer, but the creature tolerated, not liked, exposure to humans and it bolted for its burrow.

Obi-Wan, bemused by Anakin's actions, watched him squat by the animal's hole and peer inside the small dark den. His Padawan appeared to enjoy a rapport with this creature as well as the reek in Geonosis' arena. Looking up and down the dam, Obi-Wan spied thousands of similar holes, some with bobbing heads of the creatures that appeared, spotted them, and then disappeared only to pop up a minute later. He squatted, too, noting how the dam was made entirely of pressed soil, soil permeated with rodent holes. Soil that had turned to mud. Even as he watched, his boots sank ever deeper into the slurry. He spotted pieces of dam crumbling on the downriver side, little by little. "We're in trouble."

Anakin was still observing the hole, waiting for a furry head to re-emerge, when Obi-Wan pointed to the river. "Anakin, look!" Small swimming heads, rodent-sized, coursed as fast as they could through the swirling brown foam, fleeing their homes. Anakin looked startled as Obi-Wan grabbed his sleeve. "It's the dam! The flood has weakened it. Back to the raft!"

Too late. Sucking at their feet, the river ate the dam impossibly fast. Obi-Wan was knee-deep, then thigh-deep in liquified mud. "Jump into the water!" he cried. If the mud clung to them and water washed over their heads, they risked drowning in the raging river, even with rebreathers. He saw Anakin in trouble, too, and grasped his Padawan's hips, heaving upward, pulling Anakin free of the mud but pushing himself further down as he did so. Now he was armpit deep in the water with mud clinging up to his waist. He undid Anakin's grasp brusquely. "Swim, Anakin. Swim away from me."

Anakin took in the situation calmly, as calmly as he had gauged the danger at the arena. "Master, hear me. I will not leave you."

"No time to argue, Padawan. I will be all right." Anakin heard nothing but certainty in Obi-Wan's voice. He did not believe him. The water had reached Obi-Wan's neck and he could see him struggling to free himself.

Anakin dove blindly into the flood, using Obi-Wan's body as a guide. He felt a lightsaber, then the mud's clinging grip on both legs. Using his hands as scoops, he pulled handful after handful of mud away, freeing one knee, then the other. Now Obi-Wan gained leverage, scissoring his legs as his calves and then ankles came free. Anakin had to surface for another breath.

"I'm nearly free! Swim away, now!" Obi-Wan Force-pushed Anakin back several meters. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan took a deep breath --- and oh, the water was up to his shorn chin now -- and sank beneath the surface.

Too long. It was taking far too long. Anakin struggled to swim upstream back to him, but made scant headway. Tears sprang to his eyes. _Don't die! Don't leave me, Master!_

Then Obi-Wan's muddy head appeared as he coughed gouts of brown water and Anakin groaned in relief. "Over here! Master, over here!"

Obi-Wan gasped, blindly wiping mud from his eyes as he homed in on Anakin's voice. Anakin forgot to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release as he grabbed Obi-Wan's hand firmly, treading water.

"I wanted ... to keep ... the rebreather back ... for a real emergency," Obi-Wan spluttered.

Anakin choked. "I don't ever want ... to see what you consider ... a 'real' emergency!" Bad enough that they had both lost their boots in the mud.

The river gulped.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin's hand fiercely, but the current pulled the two struggling beings hard against a drifting log and their connection broke. Tumbling, choking, Obi-Wan flailed his arms and kicked bare feet in an overhand stroke towards what appeared to be the surface. Yes! One breath, then another and another. He suppressed his coughs by compressing his diaphragm again and again until water from his lungs and stomach poured from his mouth and he could function again.

Something caught Anakin's right foot, a submerged branch by its feel. At least, he had no sensation of teeth snapping at his toes. Whatever it was, it was heavy and tumbling. He gasped as its roll took him under. Bubbles of his escaping breath caught at his ears, his nose and then swirled upward. A tug did not release his foot so he bent, squashing the last remaining air from his lungs. Time nearly stopped as he twisted his ankle from its wedge in a branch's notch. But which way was up? He had now been carried deeper and blackish-brown water seemed everywhere the same, with no light glimmer to guide him. Another object bumped him, this time on the cheek. His vision dimming, he saw two yellowish glows that did not blink. Eyes? A fish's eyes. Nearly touching his face, the orbs rose and he followed them towards the surface.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called hoarsely. "Anakin!" A dozen strokes brought him abreast of Anakin as he clasped him under the chin. "Relax, Anakin. Let me swim for you."

"I'm ... all ... right."

"I will be able to steer us if you relax." He cupped Anakin's chin, but did not attempt another overhand stroke. In a sitting position, he pulled Anakin onto his lap and straightened in the water, slipping his arm from Anakin's chin to his waist. "That's better. There's a dock, see it? Maybe a village or town."

"Okay." Obi-Wan held him firmly with one hand while Anakin sat on his thighs, his nose just above the water. Obi-Wan commenced to kick while steering with his left hand toward the dock. The flood's rage lessened now that they were below the dam. Craning his head to look backward, he could see that the dock was a simple wooden structure, no gangways, only a single rope dangling for tying any watercraft.

The two clambered up the rope onto the dock. Trow's primary burned away any chill while they lay out, relieved to be out of the rushing water, but the enervating humidity precluded their clothing drying out completely. Birds, insects, flyers of all kinds buzzed over them. Obi-Wan had lost his socks also in the flood, as had Anakin. Walking barefoot through a jungle was a dismaying thought. He glanced sideways at Anakin. More clothing needed to come off him. Obi-Wan hawked and spat some brown water. "Padawan."

"Yes, Master?" Anakin picked at a spot of mold between his toes. At least with no boots, air could reach their feet.

"Our bodies are attracting mold spores and by this time tomorrow we shall have even more spots growing on our skin." He needed to disgust Anakin, who had bouts of shyness about his body. "If we had arrived at Nepsa as planned, there would be healers to help fend them off, but as it is, we must help ourselves." He looked down at his soggy tunics. "I, for one, am perspiring in this humidity and do not intend to furnish a richer medium than I must for Trow's indigenous --- whatevers." He stood to emphasize his point. "I'm disrobing to my undergarments. Please do the same." He pulled apart his leggings' laces, shoved them down to the dock and undid the belt and obi to yank up the tunics' skirting. He shed the top two tunics, leaving a final thin layer of the one-piece standard-issue set of short-legged drawers attached to a short-sleeved top with a slit neck. For practical purposes, the designers had installed an unbuttoned fly and dropseat for human/humanoids. Their dousing and their perspiration rendered the thin white weave transparent in most places. Finishing off by rolling the tunics and leggings into a cylinder, he replaced his belt and obi, threading the excess clothing through his belt at one hip. "Padawan?"

Anakin followed suit. Yes, it was divine to rid himself of the clothes' bulk; he just wished that he didn't feel naked, though. He swam often, and Obi-Wan did, too, so why did this half-concealing, half-revealing attire make him feel ten times more embarrassed than Jedi-issue swimtrunks? At least no others were around, just Master. He kept his eyes determinedly on Obi-Wan's face as he said, "Look, Master, the trail's not washed away." He pointed to a meter-wide path through lianas and those ever-present multi-trunked trees with their knobby roots. "And it's fairly soft for our feet, just muddy enough."

The morning dragged on into afternoon, which shaded towards evening. Obi-Wan and Anakin kept a brisk pace, needing to use their energy on this first day of hiking as much as they dared. Obi-Wan glanced about for the food that their briefing said was edible. Muscle tissue was safest to eat, but Obi-Wan's thoughts of an entree centered more on fruit or, if they were lucky, fish. Just before the sun dipped into shadows, a swamp apple mentioned as "tart but harmless, most nutrients in rind" drooped toward their heads from three meters up. Obi-Wan pulled delicately with the Force, and Anakin put out his hands to catch the ripe fruit. He took a bite, said, "It's okay," and handed the rest to Obi-Wan. In the gathering dusk, their undergarments did not look as see-through as before, but both Anakin and Obi-Wan pulled the excess clothing on their belts to hang in front of them.

The river deepened.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

Anakin had fond memories of barns. On Tatooine, eopies could weather sandstorms well enough, but most owners took pity on their dumb beasts and sheltered them in large municipal barns of thick adobe. Smells and soft snorts of creatures from banthas to eopies to pet dinkoes permeated the unlit structures, making them altogether one of the nicest memories Anakin brought away with him. As he surveyed the deserted barn that he and Obi-Wan discovered in the same clearing as an equally deserted farmbuilding just off the trail, Anakin looked at the stalls' size and envisioned what kind of beast normally resided here. There was a clean, thick pile of bedding material, shredded liana fiber from the looks of it, heaped in the center of the floor, swirling in the oncoming storm's advance breeze. Whoever lived here had loosed their animals, but prepared for their return in advance. The barn's door was opened freely, not a sign of a beast's crashing through, not a hinge broken. As to what sort of beast, it was smaller than a suubatar, but larger than an akk dog, Anakin surmised as he sniffed a rich odor in the air, a grain aroma that smelled pungent, barnlike, and well, likeable. Anakin grumped to himself a bit about the Council's emphasis on politics, politics, and more politics in their briefing and not a whit about natural history. _Well, that **is** their focus now, Anakin, what with the war and all. They didn't expect us to crash in the back of beyond like this. No more Living Force-sensitizing trips to Ragoon-6 for the duration, I guess. How sad._ Anakin hadn't rationalized the Council's actions like this before, and wondered if this wasn't what they called maturity.

Obi-Wan poked at the nibs of fiber with his bare foot, stooped and crumbled a handful between his fingers. He glanced out an unglazed window at the roiling gray clouds. "A storm coming and we have shelter, Anakin. Things could be worse."

Anakin nodded, leaning on the broad windowsill. Obi-Wan stood beside him and together they watched as a blast of wind bent the proud trees. Moments later a lone crack of lightning split the sky. Thunder grew in intensity and just when it should have stopped, it changed in character, continuing for several minutes. The Padawan looked questioningly down at the Master, who listened intently. "Drums," he said. "From a few kilometers away." He could not see Anakin's face now as he leaned in his general direction to shout over the drums' booming. "I sense no danger." And he didn't, though his Force perception had an odd flavor to it, a glimmer of something outside his experience. But life-threatening? No.

Anakin slumped on the bedding, scooping out his body's outline while he lay back. Rain pounded steadily against the glazed tile roof of the structure. He yawned. Considering the strong wind flowing in from the window, they would need to huddle for warmth tonight, even with putting their shed tunics and leggings back on. There was an almost pleasant cool dampness in the air, so unlike last night's mugginess. Anakin could handle dry desert heat much better.

The lightning flashes were nearly non-stop now as the storm hit the clearing in full force, strobing the barn's former comfortable gloom. Obi-Wan hollowed a place beside him and lay down. Without a word, he opened his arms. Anakin draped his braid forward and pressed his back against Obi-Wan's chest while Obi-Wan flung a leg over Anakin's hips. Anakin's shivers faded as he fell into sleepy silence. Obi-Wan soon followed, rearranging his senses once more to tune out white non-threatening noise as his face pressed into Anakin's brush cut hair. It was when he examined the miasma of the omnipresent jungle, equating it similarly to his Force perception of non-threatening odor, that he immediately noticed a slight change.

"Anakin, are you feeling all right?"

Anakin shifted in his arms. "No. I'm not. It's due to all the river water that I swallowed, I think, but I have an intestinal upset."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Say no more. Me, too."

Unless they had access to water purifiers, the citizens of Trow must be hardy indeed to endure these microbes' invasion of their bodies. This last affliction, albeit minor, could place the two Jedi in harm's way; a sudden attack of the symptoms might distract them until the spasms passed. Obi-Wan's guts gurgled faintly. _Not again._

The river splashed.


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

Flocks of greenish-gray birds screeched in the post-dawn clear air, but stopped their cacophony just as a non-white noise _crack!_ echoed in the barn and brought Obi-Wan and Anakin to alertness. Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber with his right hand, noticed immediately that it was numb from Anakin using it for a pillow, and changed to his left hand, thumb on switch, not activating it yet. There were two entrances to the barn and six Billaqori entered each, with one sliding over the windowsill. The thirteen formed a tight phalanx, their mud-colored skin and short black hair smeared with a kind of pattern in ochre paste. The tallest was somewhat shorter than Obi-Wan. A large male with a towering feathered headdress placed both hands before him atop his meter-long weapon. Looks like a vibro-axe, Obi-Wan thought. He and Anakin stood back-to-back.

Headdress said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice that was only slightly accented, "Jedi. You are off course."

Obi-Wan replied, "We lost our boat in your river. We are en route to Nepsa for the Congress of Tribes. If you could spare an escort ... "

As the twelve armed subordinates looked to Headdress, Anakin noticed that one of them seemed to gauge them measuringly for some reason. She whispered to the ostensible leader and he nodded. "Jedi are always welcome to join the Billaqori at our most important festival today. This very night is our sacred time," he said.

"Is that why the farmstead is deserted?" Their briefing had been on planet-wide politics only; perhaps this was a local rural festival.

"All within walking distance of a village must come to a Gathering. We honor our Mother tonight. When Dormin did not answer the drums last night, we knew something was wrong here."

That was how their presence was known, then; a dead-man's-switch arrangement.

"No one was here when we arrived before sundown last night," Obi-Wan said.

Qikal shrugged. "There are other trails than the one we took to arrive here. Dormin has a large family and may have started early to give himself more time for the trip. He is a pillar at the Gathering, so we --- I --- thought it worthwhile to investigate." Qikal smiled rapturously. "I knew that he would never dishonor the Mother."

Mother being everyone's mother, as in a generic all-giving avatar, Obi-Wan surmised. Why hadn't Mace included Trow's basic religions in their briefing? This was a common enough belief system, the Mother giving life, sustaining life, procreating more life ... Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about this suddenly. "Of course, we should be honored to _observe_ your ceremony tonight. It is, possibly, a one-night ceremony?" Not the eighteen-day Mother ceremony on Supairp Prime, please. Not the endless speeches, ceremonial creations of blood brother kinships that had nearly drained him dry, with ritual wrestling bouts afterwards to see who could refrain from fainting the longest. Please. Though some called serving the Force a religion, the Jedi Order had very few rituals; the basic grounding of belief in the Force was an everyday thing. The only holidays observed were Republic holidays; any other special days had to do with individual rejoicings such as lifeday celebrations, Knighting Day anniversaries, and Master-to-Padawan first Braidings. All this was to Obi-Wan's secret relief. He had faith in abundance; he didn't need exhortations on previously selected days. He allowed none of this to show on his face as he asked delicately, "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is my Padawan-learner, Anakin Skywalker. And your name is ... ?"

There was grace in the middle-aged leader's bow. "Qikal. My name is Qikal." He turned to Anakin. "'Padawan-learner' ? Is this your son?"

"Apprentice, sir. My Master is training me to be a Jedi Knight." Anakin spoke up.

"He is in my charge. He will assist in our negotiations with your Congress." Obi-Wan took over the conversation as he recalled the odd tinge to the drumbeats' Force perception.

The woman who assuredly was the leader's advisor smiled warmly. "It is as the Mother wills. One partner for each of us," she said, touching Anakin's arm. "And he is old enough."

_I don't like the sound of that._ Obi-Wan placed himself pointedly between Anakin and the advisor. "Qikal, what precisely will we be expected to do?" He saw Qikal notice his lightsaber, appraising it as a weapon.

The thirteen had such broad smiles that their ochre makeup cracked on their cheeks.

The river bubbled.

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	8. Chapter 8

Part Eight

The smiles broadened even more, if possible. The Force rippled in that unusual way that it had last night when lightning cracked, thunder boomed and drums superseded thunder. A _different_ tinge embellished the happiness coloring the Force around the ecstatic Billaqori. Obi-Wan didn't know what to make of it.

Anakin did know what to make of it, and his general state of nervousness kicked into overdrive. Surely this tinge was natural to the humanoid Billaqori, as it was to all beings. Surely it would have no repercussions on _him._

"Welcome to the Billaqor tribe. We of the Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy village will share our bounty with you, Jedi. Joining in our Festival of Plenitude honors us." They commenced to embrace Obi-Wan hugely, one after the other, to his surprise. They were shorter than he was, but quite well-built and strong. _Good thing those intestinal upsets seem to have dissipated in the night,_ Obi-Wan thought as one Billaqori actually squeezed him enough to hoist his feet from the ground. Ever the diplomat, he returned each hug with equal fervor, smiling graciously all the while. Beside him, Anakin enjoyed equal treatment, although no Billaqori could lift him from the ground. The assistant to Qikal stood apart. There was something predatory about her, Obi-Wan thought.

"Anakin, observing this festival of theirs will gain us transportation, I believe, and perhaps an escort," Obi-Wan said after the welcoming group dispersed to secure the farmstead. The thirteen helped themselves to food and drink from stores, since they hadn't brought any provisions with them in their pre-dawn rush.

Anakin flicked a glance towards the silent, beaming assistant. "Master, you said 'observe,' they said 'join,' did you notice?" Some of the Billaqori ochre makeup had come off on Obi-Wan's chin during the cheek-to-cheek rubbing part of the embrace and Anakin wiped it off for him.

"Their Basic is good but not perfect, Padawan. I'll explain the difference to them." As Qikal approached once more with packets of a purplish paste, Obi-Wan chanced, "Leader Qikal, my grasp of your charming custom is limited. Am I to understand that you allow outsiders to actually join in? Doesn't this offend the Mother in some way?" Obi-Wan's only perfect grade in Diplomacy Training came from Master Lingus, whose series of lectures that the Padawans nicknamed _How To Lay It On Thick_ drew small crowds. _Ask a leading question when under duress,_ she'd said. _Throw all their beliefs into question. But in a nice way._

Qikal handed each of them a packet and said slowly, enunciating each syllable in a way that all beings did when speaking to foreigners, "I say again, welcome to our tribe, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. As the Mother wills, everyone in her territory without a mate will find one tonight. Any offspring will be birthed next spring in the utmost season of Plenitude." Qikal smiled with all his teeth. "No outsider yet has refused the honor. You would be the first." He ran his thumb around the tip of the weapon that Obi-Wan originally had thought similar to a BD-1 Cutter vibro-axe, but now appeared to be a small force pike.

_And where did they get force pikes?_ _Later, Obi-Wan, later. _Obi-Wan heard Anakin's gulp of astonishment as his mind flashed to various scenarios: One: Fight. He could Force-push them all away without harming a soul. In case of pursuit, he and Anakin could run into the jungle through unknown territory with dwindling supplies, barefoot. Absently he rubbed his lightsaber's hilt. Possible, though by now he realized that the Billaqori had a simple but effective way of communicating with their outlying settlements, meaning that more battles might await them. While the Jedi extraction team that was surely en route would track them down eventually even without Obi-Wan's and Anakin's overt help, battling their way out of this would not help the Republic's cause at all. Risky. Two: Acquiesce. The path of least resistance, least possibility of danger to his Padawan, the mission and by extension, the Billaqori, and last of all, himself. More likely.

Anakin's thoughts blanked as he saw his Master nod unsmilingly towards Leader Qikal. 'Honor the Mother?' At that moment, he very much wanted his own mother, to advise him at the very least. He broke open the packet of what turned out to be a nutrient paste and shoved it in his mouth with his fingers. He finished it before registering what it tasted like and when Obi-Wan handed him his own as well, ate it the very same way. This time he did notice the flavor; it tasted like something all-natural, unspiced and extremely bland. Probably very healthy and good for him. Probably something Padme would enjoy. Certainly something Obi-Wan would relish. He didn't much like it.

When their troop marched leisurely down a five-person wide trail towards Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, Anakin found another reason to dislike the Billaqori. Their ochre makeup covered up most of the orange mold showing behind ears and at the waistline of their roughly-woven lavalavas, but not all. He made a moue of distaste upon discovering this, but schooled his features to impassivity when Obi-Wan shot him a look.

The river subsided.

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	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

Anakin flinched away from his Master when Obi-Wan pointed out another swamp apple tree on their hike, hardly able to look at him. He fumed all the way back to the Billaqori village. He ran over his own scenarios: One: Reveal his identity as the Chosen One and demand immunity from any ceremonial involvement whatsoever. Unlikely the Billaqori would place Jedi prophecy above their own religion, but still ... Two: Run. He was well-rested, he could have run faster than ever before away from this situation even though barefoot. He knew that Obi-Wan would cover his retreat, even at great expense to himself ... He didn't complete the scenario. Three: Acquiesce. At this point his mind blanked again. He trudged along the trail. There wouldn't be any fathering from this. There. Just. Couldn't. Be. How would he explain this to Padmé? He couldn't desert any child that he ever would have. If he made them, he would support them. What would the Code say? Personal responsibility to the Force was its keynote theme, wasn't it? But what if it wasn't? What if --- Anakin's mind gibbered --- what if, in this case of procreation under duress, the Code and the Council would say, _It was the will of the Force, Skywalker, that this child was created. It will be cared for by its culture, never fear._ But Anakin did fear. Already he grew indignant in his imaginary conversation, picturing the Council's distant, kindly compassion. _My child will never be an "it." He or she will be a person!_

Anakin's chest tightened and breathing was difficult. Then he relaxed into a moving meditation, swinging his arms to counterbalance his legs, blocking any discomfort from his bare feet on the trail, just walking, only walking. _ Probably conception is impossible between Billaqori and humans._ He eyed the advisor obliquely. Secondary female characteristics indistinguishable from humans. _Qikal thinks procreation possible, but Qikal doesn't know shit. There has to be a way out of this. There has to._

Anakin's nerves jangled like a vioflute's tremolo, Obi-Wan sensed. So far on the two-hour hike to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, his Padawan did not look at him once. Neither did he speak to any of the Billaqori, though the leader's advisor attempted to draw him out in conversation. Obi-Wan sighed as he stopped to pull out a sticker wedged between his toes. The Unifying Force pulled at him, and he skipped over any nighttime apprehensions to focus on tomorrow's journey towards Nepsa. Perhaps they could borrow a watercraft, or there was a shortcut through the jungle, even a beast to ride would do ... The Living Force erupted in his mind again as he saw the advisor draw near Qikal and speak in a low voice. Obi-Wan decided that he didn't much like the Living Force. He continued placing one foot before the other.

Qikal nursed an old injury, Anakin noticed, as the leader strode along with a hitching gait. A large lump beside his right knee spoke of an improperly set fracture. When the group rested briefly, Qikal sat on one of the smoother roots of the multiple-trunked trees called _naynabo_. He gestured to Anakin to join him on an adjacent seat, and Obi-Wan seamlessly invited himself along. "I find myself needing a rest also, Leader. At our ages, we should listen to what our bodies tell us, isn't that right?" Obi-Wan suggested through the Force that he was older than he looked and smiled a middle-aged man's commiserating smile at their shared plight, settling himself on the far side of Anakin.

Qikal rubbed the bulge on his knee a moment. "You will respect the Mother if you choose a partner from among us. When we arrive home, there are a few unattached females who desire to fulfill their duty." He stretched out a kink in his back. "I will find you each a suitable partner, although" --- he appraised Anakin in as frank a way as any Obi-Wan had ever witnessed from the Outer Rim frontier cantinas to the rowdier night spots of Coruscant --- "any Billaqori would want either of you. Even myself."

Forget about acquiring transportation for the mission. The priority was Anakin. If he had wanted to choose a more damaging fate for his Padawan, Obi-Wan could not have done it. Anakin was just twenty; his person as a Jedi Padawan-learner should be inviolate. This would not happen. **No.** "He's mine," he said. Feeling Anakin's and Qikal's stares, he said more firmly, as he thought a lover would say, "We're, um, together. We've just had a little spat, isn't that right, Anakin?" He put his arm around him in a more-than-comradely way that he had seen spouses use and gave him a tug to pull him even closer. He tilted this head against Anakin's and breathed into his ear as he strained away. "Follow me on this."

Anakin used his whiny voice. "A _little_ spat? Is that what you think, Obi-Wan? I told you to requisition a brand new ship, but noooo. And now here we are. The garden spot of Trow." It was a convincing snit, with some truth in it on Anakin's side, Obi-Wan supposed. That was what made it a good lie.

Leader Qikal's brows beetled. Then he rose to his feet, putting his personal preferences aside for the good of the Mother. He straightened with considerable dignity. "As you say, Jedi, one of you is the teacher, and one of you is the learner. It may be that those roles will control what you do here tonight. One thing is for sure, there will be an honoring. As for offspring, well ... " He broke off as a thought struck him. "Unless your species is unlike ours in more than skin tone?"

"No!" Anakin and Obi-Wan chorused. "That is, Leader Qikal," Obi-Wan added, "we fully intend to keep faith with your customs."

Qikal summoned his advisor with a beckoning hand as he set out again on the trail. "That would be wise," he said over his shoulder to the two of them. "Because I am proctor of the entire proceedings."

The river froze.

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	10. Chapter 10

Part Ten

At the outskirts of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, Qikal startled Anakin by running a palm along his flank. Then he stood tall again as Leader, with the greenish-gray feathers in his headdress not stirring at all in the balmy post-deluge air. Some citizens came out to greet them, about fifty all told, oldsters, couples with what seemed at least three younglings apiece, and giggling teens. Old Dormin was the first to speak.

"Trokas, you spook too easy. We left early yesterday afternoon and stopped to fish along the way, that's all. Camped out halfway here. We heard the speaking drums, you know, but couldn't answer. Mother is getting along and can't walk as fast as she used to." Dormin's mother could have been an icon for Trow's ancient Mother-lifegiver; the old lady's sparse white hair crowned a sunken skull with only bright dark eyes showing any vitality. She elbowed her stout son in his side.

"Who says I can't talk as fast as I used to? I can talk just like I did at thirty, even faster. I have a lot more to say now." Dormin took her hand to steady her on her feet, but she shook him off. "I just rode the aloas to give it some exercise."

Anakin received his answer as to what kind of beasts lived in the Dormin household's barn. An ungulate of a nexu's approximate size stood tethered in the shade of one mud-and-wattle building, swishing its short feathery tail at buzzing insect pests. Its cream-and-chestnut striped fur gave it some camouflage in the dappling sun filtering down onto the jungle floor, Anakin supposed, although he thought the elegant meter-long horns must have been a bother when running from predators through the underbrush. A small saddle lay next to the hitching post, while a teen rubbed down the aloas' quite beautiful fur. In the Force, the aloas glowed with simplicity and a certain native cunning, just like the Billaqori villagers did. But no malice. Anakin turned his attention back to the conversation.

"Dormin. We are pleased you and yours are safely arrived. The festival wouldn't be the same without you."

"Trokas. I knew you when old Strenghis and you were hangers-on at Congress, running messages and brewing Kopi tea for that bunch. Strenghis moved up the ladder by smart dealing, but you, my man" --- Dormin clapped Trokas Qikal on the back --- "have kept the faith. Thanks for caring, even if you are an old worrier."

Leader Qikal allowed himself a slight smile. "It's what got me elected as leader, my friend. Have you arranged for child care for tonight?"

Dormin's mother spoke up. "It's under control, Leader. The old man and I have brought new games for the kiddies and all my friends will help out, too."

"Please ensure that the children remain with you this time. Last Festival was most unbecoming. You and your spouse and friends wound up playing with the games and the children escaped your care. Some interrupted the honoring." Qikal glared at the old woman, who stared at her sandals a moment before replying.

"Leader, most couples finish fast and come back to gather their children. We got bored with waiting for the second-timers and partying to finish, that's all."

Anakin thought that Qikal's glare was a close fourth to his Master's, and that Dormin's mother's excuse needed much work. It was something to work on to take his mind off the approaching evening. As he looked around, Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy mirrored hundreds of villages at this level of sophistication he had seen through the years. Tropical climates, lack of stones for building, and need for ventilation influenced architecture to construct earthen homes with vegetation-thatched roofs. The local variety of clay clung well enough to the wattle underpinning and even allowed round windows to keep their shapes. Anakin knew that vermin thrived in dark, airless places. He wouldn't mind entering one of these homes. The openness of being under the sky suited him better, however. He and Obi-Wan weren't prisoners, at least. They would simply fake compliance, yes, that's it. Somehow he and Obi-Wan would put on a show. Perhaps they could get away with it. Faking this whole thing would be so close to actually joining in that it almost didn't matter. Almost.

Obi-Wan entered the state of observing-without-looking that he had perfected. Like most communities, Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy clustered its homes and public buildings around a commons, in this case an area wide enough for thirty couples to, well, couple. A few lanterns shaded with what appeared to be thinly-scraped animal hide hung from the corners of the perimeter's buildings. From the size of the village and his knowledge of demographics, Obi-Wan estimated that there were eighty non-participants and sixty participants. He found himself digging a toe in the soil to test for softness, and was relieved to spot a large pile of throws and largish embroidered pillows in one far corner of the area. Of course, he and Anakin would never consummate their relationship, although it was a loving one. Faking was the order of the day.

The river laughed.

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	11. Chapter 11

Part Eleven

Dex's would never serve this nutrient paste, Obi-Wan observed. It had neither fiber nor grease in it, for one thing; whatever the conglomeration was of meats, fish, fruits, or vegetables left no substance at all, merely a smooth purple mucilage. It had the advantage of being a change from protein pellets and that was its saving grace. "Padawan. Mix the pellets in with it and there is at least something to chew."

Anakin still couldn't believe what Obi-Wan had done. Here he and his Master were sitting side by side leaning up against a dwelling's back wall, eating out in the field on a mission, while the afternoon diminished and shadows grew long. They should be planning their scheme, recalling old strategies and examples of chicanery that had worked before, perhaps eying an out-of-the-way spot in the commons where lighting was dim. At last the meal was finished. Anakin discarded the empty packets of food and glanced toward the one lone hill that seemed to exist in this southern territory of Trow. The reddish sun inexorably dipped behind the small prominence, fingers of pink and pale blue clouds effervesced to deep purple, and then it was night. Leader Qikal lit the lanterns one by one so that the commons glowed with islands of illumination amid an inky ocean. Anakin couldn't stand the silence any longer. Croaking out the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, Anakin placed a firm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and swung him around to face him.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reprimand, but the dim light revealed one very distraught Padawan. Obi-Wan smiled instead, placing his hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Anakin, we will get through this. It is a minor thing, after all. By this time tomorrow, we will be well on our way to Nepsa with this all behind us. Can't you sense it?"

Sensing anything in the Force was the last thing Anakin wanted to do right now. Couples strolled by, smiling in that empty-headed way that he hoped, _he hoped,_ he and Padmé never did. The Force swirled around him, colors deepening in tone, changing until there was not a pastel in sight. Heavy hues, sparkling blotches were the norm. And it may have been Anakin's imagination, but the humidity seemed to have increased. "Master, what are we going to do?"

"Well, we're not going to do what Qikal thinks we are going to do. I may have to look lasciviously at you and say certain things, and we may have to disrobe and squirm about, but that should be enough to fool anyone if we find a dark enough spot. This will all be over with soon, my Padawan. Quiet, here comes Qikal." The two Jedi held hands.

"See, Jedi, the moons rise and the Festival of Plenitude begins. Welcome." And Qikal waited in the unnatural hush of a village whose children were enthralled by quiet activities. Obi-Wan rose, drawing Anakin up with him. Qikal waited until Obi-Wan's fingers actually unhooked Anakin's belt before limping away.

"I can do it," Anakin hissed. "Please, Master." Anakin's hands shook, but he removed belt and obi, tabards and tunics outer and inner before undoing the leggings' laces to slip them down and off. He didn't look at Obi-Wan at all. It was bad enough that he heard clothing rustle. Two minutes later, he took a deep shaky breath and shucked his undergarments. "Master, please ... "

"Anything, Anakin."

"DoIhavespotsdownthere?"

"Come into the light more. No, I don't ... there, I see one tiny one through the hair."

"I knew it! I knew we should have trimmed everything!"

"Calm down, Anakin. It's nothing more than a few centimeters wide. Check me over, please."

"All right ... just a moment ... yes, a small one, too. Maybe we're getting resistant."

"Let's hope so. I'm tired of thinking about them, much less seeing them on people."

Complaints rarely came from Obi-Wan and to hear this from his lips emboldened Anakin. He nearly hugged him, but just then Qikal shone a glowrod over a couple nearby, murmured encouragement and a hearty "Happy Festival Night!" before moving briskly on to the next entwined pair. _Oh. He has a glowrod._ No faking then, Anakin realized.

The river sighed.

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	12. Chapter 12

Part Twelve

Obi-Wan felt roiling waves of panic from Anakin, enough adrenaline surging through the boy to suggest that he was fighting a furious battle within. _If he loses control and fights me, will I win against the Chosen One? And if I do, will I like it? And if I don't, what will knowing that he is stronger than a Master do to us? And why, oh why, is he shielding so strongly? _ This anxiety must be about sex, but not masturbation because he and Anakin had had The Talk years ago. It was neither of their finer moments, but it was gotten through, and Anakin knew that self-pleasure made for good mental health. Which was Obi-Wan's current cunning plan, though tossing off wasn't very involving with one's partner, even with mutual observation. Obi-Wan wasn't certain that the practice qualified as honoring the Mother. It was the best idea he could come up with, though. To put on a good show for Leader Qikal, who was coming their way again, blast him, Obi-Wan embraced his Padawan gently, running both hands down the knotted back and up to the hunched shoulders. _He has had a sexual encounter with another Padawan, certainly something mild, and he is shy about telling me._

Anakin felt Obi-Wan's strong hands knead stiff muscles and he buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck. He nearly swung a roundhouse blow when Qikal drew his braid from between his and Obi-Wan's throats with his roughened hands. "Good Jedi, commune more closely. Show the Mother that even Jedi know how to love." With a final pat to smooth the braid, Qikal moved along.

At this, Anakin jerked back from the embrace. His breath hoarsened. He walked to the pile of coarsely woven throws and chose the softest that he could find. It was black, with black fringe. He sniffed it. Clean, at least. Near the edge of the commons seemed as good a spot as any. Now that he was not actually being touched by Qikal, his head cleared. He calculated swiftly. No, the timing was fortuitous. After this delay, there was still time to complete the mission. His Master would not put this ... this detour on any formal Council report. Would he?

"M-M-Master, wait. I w-w-want to do something before we s-start."

Anakin looked Obi-Wan full on and recited the complete version of the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, the one almost never uttered by anyone. "I release myself from your authority, my Master, temporarily and only for your greater good. I recognize that all the Jedi that I am I owe to your training and promise to place myself under your authority when need is past. Until then, I will touch you without asking permission as you touch me in the normal way of things. May The Force B-Be With Us." He hiccupped towards the end as he removed the last scrap of uniform that remained on his body, the tough threads securing his Padawan braid. He unravelled the plait. He placed his Merit Beads under the throw to secure them from rolling and from an obscure impulse to protect them from witnessing whatever happened. It seemed all his Tatooine superstitions and his old stuttering habit were coming out as his stress level rose.

_So formal, my Padawan. This is a survival situation, nothing else. We have done and will do what we must to survive and complete our mission and nothing will change between us, ever._ Obi-Wan stroked his short scruff of beard, nodding seriously. He could tell that Anakin was profoundly affected by this. He resolved to guard him more than ever. "Whatever we do, Anakin, you have my promise to protect your body and your soul. Nothing will happen here that you and I cannot handle together. Come lie down." _Time to be a Master._

Anakin obeyed.

"Anakin."

Anakin hiccupped again. "Yes."

"I will not hurt you, I promise." It tore at Obi-Wan to see Anakin this unnerved, he who had leaped out of a speeder above Coruscant's madly congested skyway to accost Zam Wesell. Anakin's face bore many scratches from Trow's lianas as well as a collection of small welts from insect bites. He was beautiful to Obi-Wan despite them all. Wondering what his own face looked like, Obi-Wan kissed him.

The river murmured.

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	13. Chapter 13

Part Thirteen

"M-M-Master." The kiss began as a reassurance, Anakin could tell. After a moment, his Master deepened it, exploring Anakin's lips, teeth and tongue. Caught in a reflex beyond his control, Anakin tightened his arms about Obi-Wan's neck as his knees shook. Their bodies seemed to melt together, though Obi-Wan thoughtfully had cleared his cheek from Anakin's nose so that Anakin could breathe. Anakin breathed increasingly faster.

_Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, go slowly. Don't frighten the boy. Boy? He is twenty, after all._ Obi-Wan felt Anakin respond to him as he opened his mouth more generously. Anakin tentatively thrust his own tongue at his, enjoying the inside of his cheek in a curious way. Obi-Wan controlled his own response as he slid down one hand to trace a nipple as the other threaded through the unbound braid.

They parted a moment, both breathing raggedly. A few more Billaqori strolled in, hand in hand, to join them. Each selected a cover for the ground or a single embroidered pillow to kneel upon. Murmurs began as with no formality at all, each male and female dropped to the ground. There were no other same-sex pairs. _What an incredibly wholesome reason for this orgy,_ thought Obi-Wan as, in the Force, passions arose with an intensity of color and sound that he had never experienced. He reached out to touch the Force and allowed it to touch him. Oh, yes, he would be gentle.

_We're so close, we've never been this close, not even on Sugnid right at the end of that misbegotten mission when it seemed heatstroke had killed him and I breathed for him. This Trow mission, too, was dinko-bit from the start --- **he's kissing my tongue **--- but I can't respond. I simply cannot, got to pull back now._ And Anakin did, turning his face away, trailing a string of saliva. "Not possible, no, Master, I can't. Please don't make me."

Obi-Wan brushed Anakin's temple with a retreating kiss and considered. This was only his body reacting; he loved Anakin and would continue to love Anakin until his own end. Even though Knighting would usher Anakin into his own separate career, they would meet on Anakin's and Obi-Wan's Knighting Day anniversaries to share drinks and tell stories. As their bond thinned over time to a strand, it would still exist. _A kite, that's what Anakin is to me,_ thought Obi-Wan, who was becoming a little cosmic from the Force's heightened aura around him. He had run faster and faster into the wind, until the Force lifted Anakin from his grasp, sailing his Padawan ever higher. But still connected.

"Master. I just can't." Anakin loosened his arms from Obi-Wan's neck, curling fetally onto his side away from him. "It's not working." _Shields up, shields up. Don't give in. Never thought I'd give in to even thinking this, much less doing this ..._

Obi-Wan would find a solution. Anyway, just how would Qikal know if he had completed the act in Anakin's ass or Anakin's mouth ..._ugh. Don't go there._ So Obi-Wan compromised with another position, keeping contact with Anakin's skin to remain at least half-hard, dropping little pecks on Anakin's sweat-drenched skin while he rolled Anakin onto his side and spooned behind him, nuzzling his head into Anakin's shoulderblade due to their disparate heights. Rubbing all that he could reach still didn't bring him fully erect, though. He supposed Anakin's meter-thick shields were responsible for that, as there was no give-and-take of synergy beyond that outside the Force. _So this is how commoners enjoy intimacy, _he thought, lapsing under stress to an epithet for non-Force sensitives that he'd not used since living in Initiates' Hall.

Obi-Wan pitied Anakin. The boy was floundering, his wavering shields befitting a Junior Padawan. Obi-Wan sent as powerful a pulse of calm assurance as he could through their bond. Their close physical proximity amplified the bond's sheer volume. Obi-Wan swore that in another minute he would _hear_ Anakin's individual thoughts, though he never had before. It wasn't something he had ever wanted, neither with Qui-Gon nor with Anakin. Anakin's trembling abated, the Force offered a still place to think, and Obi-Wan thought.

He soothed Anakin further with a hand on the boy's hip, feeling its angle beneath the calloused pads of his fingers. "Padawan, I will come for both of us."

"H-h-how? This place is degrading, it's barbarous, nobody could perform under these circ--- "

"Hush. I know a way." And he did. The Force had shown him.

The river rhapsodized.

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	14. Chapter 14

Part Fourteen

"Relax, Anakin. This is merely another stumbling block to rise above." He cleared his throat. "I will need your assistance, however. Please lie still and provide me with, uh, friction." Hyperbaric techniques should work as well on erectile tissue as on sinuses. _A delicate procedure, you said, Luminara. Delicate enough for my cock? _Breathing deeply to center himself, he smoothed Anakin's no-longer-quivering buttocks apart after a brief caress over the muscled curves. He placed Anakin in a lapsitting position though they both reclined, sliding one of Anakin's legs slightly upward, and placed his half-hard length in the sweaty crease of thighs from behind. Obi-Wan reached around to press down on Anakin's pubis for leverage, angling himself up on one elbow to tuck his chin atop his Padawan's bicep.

"Ohhh ... , " whimpered Anakin, but Obi-Wan felt utter softness in the timid organ that brushed the backs of his fingers.

Sounds of the coupling of dozens of Billaqori fell away, the rough blanket became black septsilk, and even the cringing distress of his Padawan blurred as Obi-Wan began to thrust, rocking Anakin firmly, his mind sifting through his own cells to use Luminara's technique of forcing drainage _away_ from his aggrieved frontal sinuses to forcing blood _into_ his uninterested penis. The triple layers of spongy tissue firmed agreeably; it seemed the orange mold did not affect sexual responses. Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's shoulder without knowing it.

Anakin's groin did any necessary thinking as he felt Obi-Wan's uppermost leg tighten around one of his parted knees. Even with Obi-Wan's breath harsh in his ears as the kiss brushed his shoulder, Anakin responded with a pitifully weak erection that never grew larger. _Shields, need to strengthen shields._ Anakin didn't dare drop them a bit. _He's so close to coming, he's gasping. I might say, "No, do it like last time," or "Padm_é _darling," and then he'd know, he'd know ... kriff. _

Obi-Wan no longer needed the Force. Somewhere along the way, Anakin's presence became more than enough to drive him onward to completion, which surprised Obi-Wan: he'd thought himself heterosexual, if it ever came down to it. _Why is he shielding so heavily? Poor boy, did I ever intimate that I would berate him for any little indiscretion with Tru, or Darra, or Ferus --- no, wait, it wouldn't have been Ferus._ It might have been pity that pushed Obi-Wan over the edge, the tenderest pity that he had ever felt, pity that made him first suck and then bite Anakin's straining tendon above the join of neck and shoulder. Pulling a few hairs out of Anakin's groin as he clenched his fist over the pubic bone, Obi-Wan came, and came, and came ...

_**I** made him do that? Just me? So much, it's all over me, it's, it's ... impressive, Master._ Anakin froze, wondering what he could possibly say now. This thing had happened, no matter why, and Anakin felt as if he had turned a corner onto a mysterious street, filled with high-end shops and street entertainers and exotic food vendors, all clamoring for his attention, all waiting to see where he would spend his precious coinage. At this point, he truly did not know.

Anakin thought that he didn't know what to say next, but as it turned out he didn't have to. As if he were Force-sensitive, Qikal limped towards them with his glowrod as Obi-Wan's breathing returned to normal, noted the plenteous emission, said "Festival Fulfilled!" and moved on. Anakin glared at his retreating back, but Obi-Wan ignored the leader as he threaded Anakin's unbound braid through his fingers. He twirled the strand around his thumb before yawning and rolling onto his back. All around them, couples straightened their clothing and fumbled with their sandals. A few die-hards and the very young and enthusiastic sighed over lingering kisses and recharged their energies slowly for a second dallying. Obi-Wan wondered if begging for two spare pairs of sandals would work.

"Padawan, we should sleep."

"Not here. Anywhere but here."

The river eddied.

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	15. Chapter 15

Part Fifteen

"Jedi."

"What?" Anakin snapped. He fastened his belt with short, angry motions. He could still feel Qikal's fingers on his chest, pulling out his length of braid, patting it, lingering on his back.

It was that advisor. She came out of the dark pool of the commons, straightening her lavalava. "You two have a bed for the night?"

"Not yet." Obi-Wan leaned away from a dwelling's thatched overhang where he had been lolling. "We'd appreciate some shelter."

The woman called farewell to her erstwhile partner, who was heading in the opposite direction. She turned back to Anakin and Obi-Wan. "You're only entitled to hospitality tonight if you've joined in honoring the Mother, which you have." She finished fastening her sandals. "Come on. It's not far."

She led them through the gloom of the nearly silent village, through alleys, past the village well, around the aloas corral and into her home. She struck a flint to light two oil lanterns similar to the ones at the commons, leaving Obi-Wan to wonder at the varying levels of technology in Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy. Ordinary citizens had flints, Qikal had glowrods. He tucked away the observation for later. He bowed to the woman. "Thank you."

"My name is Kuki Franell. You two hungry?"

"Starving." Obi-Wan looked around the one-room home. There was a wood range in one corner, where Kuki bustled about, and a round table with one chair. Some cupboards, rolled sleeping mats against one wall, and a lone mirror completed the decor. It was one of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's upscale homes; it had an actual planed _naynabo-_wood floor. _She lives alone --- one chair --- has occasional company --- extra sleeping mats --- and cooks well --- delicious smelling something on the range._ When Kuki handed them each a pail containing steaming water, a passably clean cloth, and pointed to the back door, Obi-Wan and Anakin needed no words.

"There's cool water in the rainbarrel in the middle of the yard for rinsing," she said. "Take a lantern, and mind the aloas droppings out there."

When they returned, Kuki had set the table with simple wooden bowls filled with a rich broth containing heaps of vegetables and large chunks of fish. Anakin wondered if the fish had had yellow eyes and hoped that it was an entirely different species. Before eating, Kuki stood before the mirror with her own steaming cloth and wiped off all the smeared ochre. Some still stiffened her straight black hair, but to Anakin's relief, the soft lamplight precluded seeing any orange spots. They all three gathered the bowls and settled companionably on the floor after a brief dispute over who was to have the single chair for hospitality's sake.

"This is good." Obi-Wan wasn't lying, because even though Billaqori cuisine contained not even salt to enliven foods, Kuki's choice of vegetables included a little mushy something with exquisite flavor that thickened the broth.

"Thanks. My husband's recipe. He always did like to cook, Mother rest him. Me, not so much." They finished the meal in silence. Kuki passed out plain water to wash everything down with before saying, "I'll use my flatboat tomorrow to take you to Nepsa. It'll take all day to get there. An easy float, though. I've got the whole day to devote to you. You're lucky it's off-season, or you'd be sharing my boat with an aloas or two, or bales of Kopi tea leaves, or anything else we trade to Nepsa merchants."

"To get glowrods and force pikes?" Obi-Wan put in. He smelled a mystery and was not too tired to sift clues.

"Leader Qikal has the only glowrods and force pikes around. We elected him because, well, he needed a job and can't do much with that knee of his. He went to Nepsa to be confirmed and came back with those things. That was just before last Festival. He's an excellent bureaucrat, actually." Kuki stretched and yawned. "'M tired. My maid will wash your clothes overnight."

"You have a maid?" Anakin's mood had improved with the meal and homey atmosphere. Now that the tension was released, he could see himself relaxing enough to sleep.

"Yes, it's my one luxury. Being a flatboat captain with a good salary means that anything left over from savings and necessities goes to the maid. Her name's Papso. Just put your things out by the front door with mine. She works nights."

"Erm, we'll need something, Kuki ... " Obi-Wan began.

"Sure thing." Kuki opened a cupboard and hauled out two lavalavas. She turned her back. "I'd give you sandals, too, but ... wait. Dunri, my husband, he was a large man. I saved a few things, I couldn't bear to ... well, here."

Anakin forgot his bashfulness as he and Obi-Wan whipped off their uniforms and tried on the lavalavas and sandals. Anakin's toes and heels lopped over the soles. He didn't care.

The river smiled.

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	16. Chapter 16

Part Sixteen

The two moons had ascended into Trow's night skies, their pallor marking the darkness with strange shadows. When Anakin dropped his tattered uniform on top of Kuki's wad of clothing and looked up again, the sight of Obi-Wan backlit by a silvery glow took his breath away. All his feelings rushed forth from the past four days to leave him slightly agog at the sight of his Master's form. From beginning to end, this mission could be a textbook case for Master/Padawan protection. He had saved Obi-Wan from the flaming ship, Obi-Wan had swum for him when he was exhausted. Obi-Wan had schemed to keep him safe from a shocking violation, he had played along by acting with all the skill that he possessed. Anakin wasn't good at acting, at least not like this. Living a lie with Padmé was different. It had a good reason and a timetable for ending: the end of the war. At the victorious end of the war, the Chosen One, surely by then sitting on the Council, would state firmly that his wife and he would live together openly, within or without the Jedi Order. In Anakin's fantasy, Master Yoda, Master Windu and all the hidebound rest of the Council debated and argued, finally coming up with a Jedi Code Revision that all Jedi would vote on, a little taste of democracy for the ancient order. In Anakin's fantasy, secret lovers of Jedi came out of the woodwork, all hypocrisy disappeared, and the galaxy moved on. In Anakin's fantasy, he was the Chosen One not because of any heroics, but because of the needed reshaping of the Code, an almost anti-climactic deed of skilled debate. In Anakin's fantasy.

Anakin had to say something, but he had to look away from the vision first. "Master, circumstances have led us into roles that we were unprepared for. I just want you to know that, that" --- he took a stuttering breath --- "I will be responsible for any repercussions if you want to tell the Council about this."

Obi-Wan was astounded. "I don't know what you mean, Padawan. I hadn't intended telling the Council at all. It's not something for their ears. Or their judgment." He dropped his own wad of clothing atop Anakin's. "Besides, I don't tell them everything, you know."

"You, you d-don't?"

Obi-Wan sat down on the porch step and patted the space beside him. "Oh, my Padawan. Anakin. Do you think privacy doesn't exist in the Order? Just because I sit on the Council doesn't mean that I gossip about the doings of my friends. That's not what we're there for, Anakin. We decide how best to interface with the Senate, how to plan battles, what sort of Padawan belongs with what Master, what the curriculum should be for the initiates ... I could go on and on. Gossip about private goings-on doesn't enter into it."

"Master, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"When we faked everything, did you like it?"

"I did not. We did it to survive and to further our cause. I dislike faking anything. The entire situation was completely embarrassing for me, as I know that it was for you. Why, those shields you put up, Anakin, I can imagine the distress that the whole incident caused you. I plan to say nothing to anyone about this, and if you don't want to ever mention it again, that's all right with me." Obi-Wan patted Anakin's hand.

"Master, I want to tell you something."

_Here it comes. A teachable moment._ "I'm listening."

"I want to be closer to you."

"Padawan, I don't think we could be any closer than we are right now. You and I share what Qui-Gon and I shared, a bond that includes a deep friendship with no secrets. It is one of my joys in life."

Anakin opened his mouth to confess his marriage, but with Obi-Wan's words caught himself and switched to another secret. This night had been too intimate, too overwhelming to really _like_. Why, just the touch of Obi-Wan's hand near his cock nearly panicked Anakin. His other big secret involved violence, a subject that he thought Obi-Wan would empathize with since he knew so much more about it than he did sex. He knew without asking that Obi-Wan's experience with sex was limited; he might even be a virgin, not ignorant of other ways but not tempted. Still, Anakin almost blurted his and Padmé's big secret. "Master, I've done something bad. When the Tusken Raiders killed my mother, I lost control and killed them. Killed the whole village, one like this one, full of simple people just living their lives. I can't keep it in anymore."

Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open. Not this, he couldn't have expected this. Those meter-thick shields not over some trivial fumbling in the dark with another Padawan or perhaps a Knight, but something incredible. His Padawan, his Anakin, crushed by the death of his beloved mother when he was too late to save her, if he had been there a day earlier, if Obi-Wan hadn't needed his help to protect Amidala ... Obi-Wan shook his head. "Anakin, Anakin. This village isn't like the Tusken village, don't you see? Tuskens raid, they kill people who they find alone, they aren't blameless. I'll help you sort this out when we get home. We'll see the soul healers, the Council. You're not in this alone."

The Force hadn't indicated that the Respect-For-Master's-Authority release wasn't still on, so Anakin put his arm around Obi-Wan's neck and laid his head on his Master's shoulder. "What would I do without you?"

The river subsided.

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	17. Chapter 17

Part Seventeen

Obi-Wan followed Anakin back into the dark dwelling where Kuki already snored. The two Jedi stretched out side by side on separate sleeping mats as they had rested on the raft. Placing their sandals to one side of the mats and undoing their belts securing the lavalavas, they spread out the full material over themselves to form a half-covering for sleep. In the still air, the gurgling of the river could be faintly heard even though it was a half-kilometer away. Obi-Wan considered the distance that they had come and the distance that they had yet to go to reach Nepsa and considered themselves still in good shape for the mission. This upsetting, unwelcome sidetracking episode could be put behind them. _Upsetting. Unwelcome._ Strong words. Perhaps _unexpected_ was a clearer depiction of his current state of mind. Qikal's goodwill might help their cause. Obi-Wan did hear Dormin mention that President Strenghis and Qikal knew each other. Some good should come of that. That was the good fallout. The bad fallout was Anakin. This night jarred loose his confession about his revenge --- Obi-Wan could not qualify it as justice --- upon the murderers of his mother. How his Jedi control could slip like that Obi-Wan couldn't imagine, though Anakin was still a Padawan, still learning. _I'll need to see the soul Healers, too. I can't handle this by myself. We'll confer with Amidala, who was there, and speaking of whom, why didn't she tell us about Anakin's problems? Or didn't he tell her, either?_ Obi-Wan turned from facing Anakin to facing the round window. He could spot perhaps fifty stars through a gathering haze from where he lay. Anakin had wanted to visit all of them, and their planets. Obi-Wan wished that Anakin would visit his inner self as easily. It was starting to hurt that Anakin had kept this big a secret from the one who had thought that they had no secrets. He wondered if something had changed between them after all.

Anakin was put in mind of the time that his and Padmé's room at a secluded inn contained twin beds. The Convention of Chommell Sector Senators took place in a wilder atmosphere than he was used to thinking of in regard to politicians. Theed's retreat near Varykino in snow season, Padmé warned him, was where politicians went to unwind. The four-day convention covered for the fact that seminars took only the morning hours; the afternoons and nights were theirs, all theirs. It had been three months into their marriage, and they couldn't get enough of each other. For propriety's sake, the inn considered twin beds acceptable for a Senator and her bodyguard. The beds began as an annoyance for the couple, but soon turned into an aphrodisiac. So near, and yet so far ... it thrilled each of them to "visit" each other's beds, lying even closer than normal due to the narrowness of the accommodations. When they forgot to move one bed far enough away from the wall and their movements knocked the headboard rhythmically against the plaster, Senator Friml of Chommell Minor inquired kindly the next morning if the jigging Gungans from one floor up had kept them awake as well. Senator Friml was advanced in age. Padmé had done some of her finest speechwriting in that room, pressed against Anakin's chest with a comforter draped over them both in the dawn hours. Anakin had treasured her delicacy in body as never before and was almost afraid to handle her, although in physical daring she was bold. She was a wonder on the slopes, too, flying over moguls on repulsor skis, laughing brightly over her shoulder at him for no reason at all.

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan's shoulder. There was no longer a need to touch him for reassurance or warmth in this now-peaceful night. The Force was silent and he would wait until the entity indicated it was right to be under authority again. Until then, he was his own man, and that felt strange.

"Padawan."

"Mmmhmmm?"

"Let's rest."

Of course, Obi-Wan could sense his wakefulness. And Obi-Wan was tired after sex, naturally enough. Anakin stretched, yawned and did a fairly good imitation of breathing deeply and regularly until he both heard and felt sleep come to his Master. His Master occasionally slept rather loudly, what with his allergies and sinuses and all. Tonight was one of those nights. Anakin turned over, tucking the lavalava around his feet again. Dim starlight shining through haze from the dwelling's single unglazed window outlined only the faintest shape of the person next to him. Kuki lay directly beneath the window next to the mud wall and so was invisible, but Obi-Wan, now ... Obi-Wan he could watch. Anakin pondered their porch conversation. Now that he thought about it, Obi-Wan had not answered Anakin's question about liking their experience on the commons. Or rather he had answered the part about faking it; no, Obi-Wan had not liked faking, but about the sex, well, Anakin realized that he had not answered the more basic question of whether he liked _that_ or not. Anakin meant it when he said that he wanted to be closer to Obi-Wan, and now that he was his own man, for however long that lasted, anyway, he had options as never before. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan loved him as he loved Obi-Wan. If circumstances were otherwise, would Obi-Wan's squirming and panting and thrusting have gotten a rise, so to speak, out of Anakin? If they had clinically decided to release tension, or generate warmth on one of those despicable icy planets, or just plain experiment as Padawans did with other Padawans, would they feel differently now? He had never before considered this question awake. His dreams were another matter.

The river slept.

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	18. Chapter 18

Part Eighteen

For a moment, Obi-Wan did not know where he was. There were birds singing, but not the familiar birdsong that began the _Wake Up Naturally, Every Time! _ program that eased each day into his Temple quarters, gradually adding light to the morning mixture of heat from the baseboard registers, the smell of Kopi tea automatically brewing, and the diffident, "Master, wake up," if he overslept. Someone snored, someone not Anakin.

"Anakin?"

"Good morning, Master. Sleep well?"

It all came back. "Yes." Not a dream disturbed his rest. In the wake of yesterday's events, Obi-Wan felt the need for meditation and for once, Anakin did, too. They settled on their sleeping mats in well-practiced poses, allowing themselves a morning nod at each other before waves of the Force pulled them in without effort. Time didn't count here, time was their friend who waited politely until they were done before rejoining them.

Anakin had slept only a little. He used the meditation to examine his mind. He used the meditation to determine his desires. He used the meditation to soothe his thoughts when he discovered an attraction to Obi-Wan in them. He used the meditation to tell his heart that love was not a river with one destination, but a series of small streams leading into an attitude of compassion. He used the meditation to bring himself to a state of confusion. He used the meditation to recognize that sometimes life was confusing. He used the meditation to picture himself telling all this to Padmé. He used the meditation to return his heartbeat to its normal pace.

Obi-Wan, as usual, emerged rejuvenated from his meditation, focused on the next few days only. To him, the Trow mission enjoyed a better chance of success because of meeting Qikal and bending to his fervor regarding the Festival. In the Force this morning, there were twenty-five pips of new life in his immediate vicinity. The Mother would be pleased. As he rebraided Anakin's long plait, Obi-Wan touched the hickey he had left on Anakin's neck. He replaced each Merit Bead in its proper strand, wove the threads a little into the braid, tied them in their usual knot, and surveyed the results. He laid three fingers over the bruise.

"You don't have to help me heal it, Master," Anakin said quietly. Kuki still slept.

"But I need to. It will stay for days, otherwise. I'm sorry, Padawan. I didn't realize that I would do that."

Anakin reached up and removed his Master's fingers. "I want it to stay. My tunic collar will hide it, and it will remind me that you saved me until it fades. Sometimes I need to be reminded of Jedi things like that."

"As you wish."

Kuki awoke with a snort, got up, padded to the door, opened it and retrieved a neatly folded stack of clothing. As Obi-Wan took their uniforms from her, her fingers brushed his, and she shivered. She tiptoed to the far corner where the range was and pulled on her work clothes, a short shift with sturdy trousers underneath. Her clatter at the range produced bowls of grain mush, sprinkled with a sweesonberry lookalike, and two mugs each of delicious Kopi tea. They all ate ravenously, with second helpings. "It'll take all day to reach Nepsa." Kuki Franell, Flatboat Captain, had not caused a passenger to be late in some years. "Let's go." They picked up some company on the half-kilometer march to the dock.

Qikal saw them off. The leader's festive headdress had been put away in storage, Obi-Wan guessed, and the crippled man seemed ordinary today, a functionary whose receding hair was no longer matted with the fashionable ochre paste. Qikal needed telling off about his coerciveness, but Anakin and Obi-Wan only bowed unsmilingly in farewell. Obi-Wan perceived undercurrents in the Force that adjured him to hold his tongue. He had told Anakin about them earlier.

"Jedi, you have honored the Mother. We will drum the message to other villages. Lower-Cremba-on-Gitchy may send out a party to accost you, if we don't."

Dormin, his mother and the rest of a few other families gathered, too. Dormin's mother laughed raucously. "That's just like them. Don't know their aloas from a hole in the ground, or their enemies from their friends." She beamed toothlessly at the two Jedi and the large group stepped forward in a phalanx as if to repeat the round of crushing embraces in farewell, but Kuki took pity on her guests.

"We need to leave, Mother Dormin. See you tomorrow night. Feed my aloas for me?"

Dormin's farmer instincts took over. "You know it. Come, Mother."

The river receded.

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	19. Chapter 19

Part Nineteen

As the woman pushed the six-meter flatboat away from the dock, Padawan and Master both sought shelter from the sun in the small lean-to amidships. _Probably have to pee over the side sometime around midday. Obi-Wan can distract Kuki ... no. I can come right out and tell her ... no. I can hold it until we arrive at Nepsa ... maybe. _As a Senior Padawan, Anakin needed to get beyond his bladder problem. He decided that when he and Master consulted the soul Healers, he would bring it up casually. It had gone on long enough. He didn't want to have to learn Master's technique for sinus self-healing and apply it to his urinary tract. He couldn't help being squeamish, he told himself defensively.

The sun was halfway to its zenith when Obi-Wan asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time that Qui-Gon made an entire industry disappear?"

"No, Master."

Obi-Wan crossed his ankles in front of him and settled in for a long story while Kuki sculled the flatboat to the middle of the broad current. The waters at this point of the river ran swift and deep; it wouldn't do to hug the shore and risk hitting a gravel bar. The middle, fastest section was also the most dangerous.

"It was on Gronullo Two. I hadn't been a Padawan for long. There was a labor dispute between management and employees. The managers, who employed child labor in a planet-wide chain of meat-processing plants, used them to scavenge the carcasses of their enormous herd-beasts, about twice as tall as an acklay. The younglings would crawl inside after the creatures were gutted and use flensing knives to remove the kidneys that adhered to the inside of the spine. Most of the beasts wound up skinned, beheaded and gutted, but roasted whole for tradition's sake in pits you would have to see to believe. Well, I was thirteen and-a-half and small for my age, so I went undercover to see what working conditions were like." Obi-Wan smiled reminiscently. "You know how Qui-Gon favored the Living Force? He could not resist getting dirty, getting _inside_ creatures' lives, their simple minds lending him insight to aspects of the Force that I didn't understand then and only understand a little better now. He was so good at that. I couldn't keep up with him. Anyway, I reported to work, they issued me a brute of a knife and I swarmed in with the rest, one of us to a carcass, so many per hour. The kidneys weighed about seven kilos each, bloody nasty things, but they were a source of cheap protein for the Gronulloans and the management didn't want to lose even the small amount of profit derived from them."

Anakin tried to picture a young Obi-Wan in this disgusting job and couldn't. He didn't know where this story was heading, but hoped it got out of gore soon. "Is this winding up a lesson in economics, Master?"

"You'll see. After six days there, I could see that conditions were fine. The younglings made me welcome. Everyone was content or mostly so; they wanted lower quotas, that's all, because working quicker than was safe with those fierce knives resulted in cuts and even dismembered fingers. All in all, a simple mediation would resolve this, don't you agree?"

"I think that the management should take a cut in profit and eliminate those jobs. Or break open the carcasses and get the kidneys out that way. What was the tradition, anyway?"

"That their herd-beasts' meat tasted better cooked whole and that the two-day roasting parties made for a local industry."

"Nothing faith-based?"

"Aha, good question. No."

"Then why keep the younglings in harm's way? I could see if Gronullo Two were poverty-stricken, but it's not."

"Not now."

"So what happened?"

"Qui-Gon happened."

"This is going to be good."

"Oh, it is. Qui-Gon left me to work undercover and we only commed each other daily after dinner. In the meanwhile, he visited a ranch and observed the herd-beasts. They would roam the plains and were so enormous that harvesting them annually took a great deal of planning. The leaders of the herds would be chivied into smaller and smaller canyons until finally the press of the herd immobilized them. Then they sent out a distress call, the ranchers slid in electro-gates behind the stragglers, and an entire herd would be captured that way. Now here is the observation that Qui-Gon made: the herd-beasts were capable of self-sacrifice. The leaders at the smaller end of the canyon, where none could escape without scrambling half-way up the cliff and over the wider part of the gap, something that their bodies could not do, knelt. It took perhaps three leaders, all kneeling together, all offering themselves to be ramps of escape for their charges, to effect most of one herd's freedom. They died quickly from crushing, of course. Qui-Gon later asked the ranchers if they had ever observed this. The ranchers had, rarely, but shrugged it off. But Qui-Gon didn't. He took a holovid of the sacrifice and showed it to Gronullo Two's media. They mentioned "accidentally" broadcasting it if the meat-packers didn't agree to stop harvesting their herd-beasts completely. The ranchers lobbied for partial recovery of loss, the meat-packers took it on the chin, and the younglings were out of a job."

"That's a mixed blessing."

"Indeed. We heard that most of them ended up on the dole for a while. Nearly all of them moved on into other livelihoods when they finished growing up."

"So did Qui-Gon learn from this?"

Obi-Wan looked askance at Anakin. "Learn what?"

"That interfering with cultures is problematical."

"He knew that going in. He was a complex man, don't think he wasn't. It was all worth it to him to change those attitudes. He himself contributed to developing Gronullo Two's tourist economy, slightly less profitable than ranching, but with less scarring of natural resources."

"How did he do that?"

"His holovid got shown to Senator Valorum, who showed it to his friends, some of whom became investors in inns and limited hunting preserves. Much of Gronullo Two is breathtaking. It's a sparse landscape filled with xerophilous species, some of whom are now harvested because they aren't semi-sentient like the herd-beasts are."

Anakin spent a moment scratching under his earlobe where the orange mold shrank in circumference each day. "Xerophilous. Trow doesn't have any xerophilous species, does it, Master?"

"Mace didn't tell us, Anakin."

"Master Windu's emphasis on politics got us in trouble."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Mace's gift is not the Living Force, Anakin. That was Qui-Gon's talent. He would be here on this flatboat, dipping his hand in the wake, sensing life beneath us, _feeling_ the muddy bottom of the river with its specks of crustaceans, maybe even diatoms ... his control was that fine."

It was going on for midday. "Master Qui-Gon loved the Living Force, didn't he, Master?" Anakin recalled Qui-Gon's patience with Jar-Jar at Shmi's dinner table. Jar-Jar was fully sentient, although at the far end of the spectrum. _I'll be kinder to Jar-Jar when I see him again. If Master Qui-Gon could tolerate him, so can I. _It wasn't Jar-Jar's fault he was in over his head in Propaganda committees. Anakin heard the water slap-slapping at the low gunwales of the flatboat and knew that he would not be able to last until they reached Nepsa.

"You're squirming, Padawan. I'll engage Kuki in conversation, shall I?"

_I'm partial to the Living Force. I'm part of the Living Force. I can surmount this problem._ "I can handle this, Master. At least, I think I can." _Wind is coming from behind us, need to go to the bow end. Kuki seems a good sort. Qui-Gon could talk to her about this if he had the same problem. I can, too._

The river rippled.

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	20. Chapter 20

Part Twenty

Obi-Wan lay prone in the mid-afternoon sun, cheek on folded arms.

"_Temporary insanity, it was. Forgiven, Padawan Skywalker is. His trials, postponed until peace resumes. In your custody, Obi-Wan, your Padawan remains. Know him better, you must."_

_**"Know** him, Master Yoda? As in carnally?"_

_Whump!_ The flatboat hit something, jarring Obi-Wan out of his after-lunch nap. He opened one blurry eye. Anakin and Kuki were tying off the flatboat to a broken-down _naynabo_ tree trunk on a small gravel spit. He put off getting up, willing his mind to emerge from its sun-drenched fugue.

Telling Anakin a Qui-Gon story reminded him of something: Padmé had concealed her identity many times before; therefore, she was no stranger to duplicity. And she was a politician, after all. Had Anakin confided in her, freshly grieving for his mother as he was? The Tusken camp story would have shocked her. Her political training could not have helped in this wrenching personal crisis. Obi-Wan could see her in his mind's eye: velvet brown eyes widening, warrior's heart understanding, politician's mind spinning the story if it should leak out. _Master Kenobi, esteemed Council. Padawan Skywalker informed me of his actions immediately. As a member of the Senate, I granted him political asylum pro tem on Tatooine and following that, on Geonosis. After our horrendous ordeal in the beast arena and your Order's tragic losses in the field, informing you of his predicament just sort of slipped my little old mind. _Obi-Wan still wanted to like her.

Kuki wiped sweat from her brow, yanked off her clothing and sandals, and splashed into the river, wading until a glory hole by some gnarled roots swallowed her. She emerged spitting, treading water as she shouted, "Come on! It's deeper over here!"

Obi-Wan supposed that their shared Festival of Plenitude experiences made for a certain closeness. He was modest about his accomplishments, not his body. "All right." He removed his own clothing, folding it in a neat pile with sandals on top. He made a running jump with a somersault and half-twist to bypass the shallows and splashed down next to Kuki. As Anakin watched, Obi-Wan dove, the bottoms of his feet flashing pale in the scorching sun. A moment later, he shot up in front of Kuki, his wake washing over her head. She spluttered, splashing his face with strong sweeps of her arms. They bobbed together, laughing. The reddish sunlight caught Obi-Wan's hair that shone auburn even though it was shorter than it had been in a Padawan-cut. Suddenly he seemed quite beautiful to Anakin, a beautiful Master who had done all that a Master could do to fulfill roles to a Padawan: he'd protected his life from the river, he'd protected his person from Qikal, and he'd protected his soul from himself. Obi-Wan shouted, "Look!" as he practiced the stroke that Bant Eerin taught him last year, the Cerean River Dolphin, she called it. A ripple of the spine, legs and arms pressed tight to his torso to lessen resistance, head emerging at each flexing of backbone to take a gasping breath.

"I'm watching!" Shmi's axiom about males, the one that she told Amee's mother when she thought Anakin wasn't listening, made him smile: _At any age, they all like to strut._ Anakin turned away from the pair to shuck his uniform and sandals, slipping into the water at the stern, where the river's sharp slant to depths unknown began. He dove under the flatboat, climbed aboard, raced across its width, and slid in again. He repeated this six times. After his sixth immersion, he opened his eyes in the still-murky water, hoping to see another yellow-eyed fish. It was such a pleasant change not to be in deadly danger on the river that he enjoyed the flowing expanse of water supporting him, caressing him. He saw not one fish.

Kuki finished her cooling off and redonned her dry clothes. She crunched through the gravel, prying up one or two of the few larger rocks that were there. She whooped. "Stoneslugs! Ten, twelve, no, sixteen of them, five for each of us! What a find!" The small box that served as a bench in the lean-to proved to contain a fileting knife and some more of that mushy vegetable. This might be more interesting than their traveler's lunch of purple mucilage, Obi-Wan thought as he laced his leggings.

Anakin contented himself with floating on his back, pinwheeling his arms to revolve in small circles. He regarded the clouds overhead, some resembling letters in Aurebesh. He could make out an Aurek and an Osk with no problem, a wispy Peth struggling to hold its integrity against some high-flown gale. A Mern, Yirt, and Qek faded as he watched. A Senth flared into being and then vanished. He hauled out on the flatboat to dry off.

"Snack time, Padawan!" Obi-Wan waved the fileting knife at Anakin. "Come on, they're delicious!"

Anakin arranged his tunic to cover his hickey as much as possible. Some still showed, he knew. He joined the others. Kuki had fileted each two decimeter-long stoneslug, laying them on a flattish rock in the sun. After fifteen minutes, they were no longer translucent, but a creamy shade of pink. She rolled them in the mushy vegetable first before filling her mouth with one. "Mmmmm, 's good."

After a few false starts, Anakin tried one and agreed. There might not be spices here, but Trow had some fascinating things to offer. As the three sat on the gunwales, dangling their feet overboard, Kuki said, "My baby will be born in this next spring's Plenitude. I feel that it will happen, this time." She grew uncharacteristically somber. "The Mother must grant my request this year. I have tried for seven seasons to be a mother, like Her. Do you think She is testing me?"

The river stilled.

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	21. Chapter 21

Part Twenty-One

Anakin didn't know what to say.

"So your Festival has not, um, brought you Plenitude, Kuki?" asked Obi-Wan softly. "There must be others like you."

"There are. And when they get old, they are a burden to us," Kuki said harshly. She kicked the water. "We try to adopt them out to families who have lost an elder. It is still hard to accept one."

Anakin found his voice. "Kuki, there are emdees and procedures to help you conceive."

Kuki shook her head. "If the Mother wills me not to emulate Her, I will accept that." She looked away to the far shore a long time. "I must." She arose to ready her craft for departure.

It was a philosophical answer to a heartrending question. Obi-Wan flinched when Anakin touched his shoulder lightly, whispering, "Master, in the Force this morning, there were conceptions nearby. I couldn't sense anything so minute as individual essences, but maybe as a Master, you could, and you could tell Kuki if ... "

Obi-Wan remembered Kuki's shiver this morning and looked to the far shore himself. "No, Padawan, I won't tell her. It's not my place to."

Something about the reply told Anakin that Obi-Wan knew. He withdrew his hand from his Master's shoulder, wondering if when Obi-Wan or even the Force itself indicated that the time was right to end the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, whether he would be able to do it. Right now, he decided that he could. Decisions like telling Kuki or not telling Kuki swamped his morals. He didn't want the responsibility. "Master, you're sunburned. Here, right on your neck."

"It's on my back, too. It's nothing."

"Let's go sit in the lean-to."

It was stifling inside until they got going again. As the hours passed, the river narrowed greatly, but did not gain in speed. It was a leisurely float now, ushering in views of a few outlying farmsteads, another trail that paralleled the water and some aloas wallowing in the coolness with a teen herdsman watching. Finally Nepsa hove into sight. It was directly on the water, Obi-Wan saw; apparently Nepsa had drainage systems or places to scramble in abundance if any flood occurred this far down the course of the river. The quay attracted his interest, because on a pillar next to the one where Kuki tied up, a weathered poster bore an image of President Strenghis. His strong features were more lined than in the holovid briefing file, but Obi-Wan saw that his position as President suited him. It was the look of power thoroughly enjoyed that marked his bold gaze. Obi-Wan wanted to learn if enjoyed power meant corrupting power. He'd soon find out. He couldn't read the script beneath the picture. Probably it said something like _A Vote For Strenghis Is A Vote For Progress _or _Strenghis Stands For Tradition,_ or something else equally opposite.

"Kuki, many thanks for your help. And for those delicious stoneslugs. I don't know what we'll do when we get back to Coruscant and can't have our daily stoneslug snack."

"You're welcome, Master Kenobi. You, too, Padawan Skywalker." Kuki became expansive. "I'll think of you two when next spring comes bringing my baby. I'm going to ask for another home from Leader Qikal, something with two rooms, nearer the water. The river soothes me."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "It does, that."

"Where are you staying, Kuki?" Anakin asked. There were no buildings that looked like hotels. Most of the structures were half-timbered two-story buildings with shutters instead of glazed windows. The streets were cobblestone and both Anakin and Obi-Wan were grateful for their too-small sandals.

"I'm not. Don't like the big city. I'll start back and camp out at the outermost farmstead. I've got friends there."

"Kuki, you say Leader Qikal issues housing?"

Kuki began to put up the sail to go upriver. She answered as she kept busy. "That's right. None of our Leaders got involved that closely with the electorate before. He started to when he returned from being confirmed with Strenghis." She snugged a line to its lanyard and clipped it to a recessed cleat in the smooth deck. She was sailing away before darkness if it were at all possible. Obi-Wan had to hurry.

"Kuki, why do you think that is? And why does only Qikal have a glowrod and force pike?"

Kuki stayed her hand from casting off the mooring rope. "I think," she said slowly, "that Qikal loves his position. He likes having something important to do, something to honor the Mother. His knee keeps him from doing my job, for instance. Strenghis gave him those things because he is his childhood friend, and of course was happy to confirm him. And I think I've answered enough of your questions, Master. Now you answer one of mine."

Anakin felt sick. She knew or guessed the full extent of their abilities. She was going to ask the question that meant the most to her, the one that might kill her hope.

The river devoured.

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	22. Chapter 22

Part Twenty-Two

"You may ask," Obi-Wan said serenely. There was nothing more serene than a serene Obi-Wan, thought Anakin, running his fingers nervously under the neckline of his tunic, next to the hickey. _You don't want to know, Kuki. I'd try to trick you for your own good with the Force, but you're too strong-minded for that. And if I tried anyway, I wouldn't like myself afterwards. _

"Did I conceive last night?" Kuki asked bluntly. She looked across the small distance separating them, one foot on the dock and one on the gunwale, as the sun descended even further. "I know that Jedi can sense many things. The thing that I want to know shouldn't be beyond your ability, you, a Master."

"But it is. I don't know if you conceived, Kuki."

"I don't believe you."

"That's as may be, but it is the truth." He offered no further balm.

Why did Anakin not believe his Master? Was it that the Respect-For-Master's-Authority release released him from his usual deference to Obi-Wan's judgment? He ran over the words of the release in his mind. _I release myself from your authority, my Master, temporarily and for your greater good. _ He didn't know himself if Kuki had conceived, only that an indeterminate number of women had. He would have told Kuki if he knew, would have told her to make her smile, or upset her before her long arduous trip home on the dangerous river that needed all of her concentration ... Obi-Wan was gazing steadily at Kuki now, the cool compassionate gaze of the Jedi Council member. There was nothing that Anakin could call empathy in his blue-green eyes. It was almost inhuman.

Kuki undid the mooring rope and kicked off from the dock as the current edged the flatboat away. The wind blew back her parting words. "Keep the sandals."

Anakin trudged after Obi-Wan on the cobblestones. It was nearly dark and most sensible Billaqori were indoors. _No one's giving us a second glance. Maybe without our robes we simply look like two good friends traveling together._ The thought calmed him for some reason. There were few glowglobes here on the waterfront, although up the rising street he could see strings of them depending from the second story of one building across the road to another building on the opposite side. As they climbed the gently sloping street, they noticed more posters fluttering in the evening breeze and it took a moment to realize that all of them were of President Strenghis, the same as the image on the dock, repeated with no variation in pose. Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy could have used some glowglobes, Anakin thought, and then checked himself. No, he didn't want more illumination on the commons. That had been too revealing by half.

What passed for an inn blazed with light but not much noise. The Billaqori spurned intoxicants, so that accounted for the quietude, Anakin thought. He passed through the double doors of the cozy inn, entering what looked like a cafe with a combination hotel registry/maitre d' station at the far end.

"We'd like a room, please." Obi-Wan's sunburn tingled and he hoped there was a Healer around or perhaps a pharmacy open. He had his doubts.

The clerk was lighter in color than any Billaqori they'd yet seen. He reached behind himself without looking and handed them a piece of etched metal, a key, Obi-Wan supposed. "Thirty credits."

"We're Jedi, here for the Congress tomorrow. You don't need payment now." There was not a hint of Force-suggestion in his reply. He was too weary for it.

"Sorry, I do need payment now. My boss wouldn't like me giving rooms away." Oh, he was going to give them grief. Why was this pimply-faced teen so tense? Shouldn't he be more relaxed from honoring the Mother last night? Obi-Wan gathered himself for an argument.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi!" a familiar voice boomed.

The river echoed.

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	23. Chapter 23

Part Twenty-Three

Obi-Wan spun. It was Ry-Gaul coming down the stairs, striding his long stride to greet them with a smile in his pale eyes, their Jedi extraction team. "Ry-Gaul, don't take this the wrong way, but you're the team?"

Ry-Gaul ignored the comment. "You're safe? No injuries? I tracked your signal to the bottom of a river early this afternoon and was asking the locals if they'd seen you. I am pleased not to have to use the midichlorian sensor to locate your soggy remains." It was probably the most words the taciturn Ry-Gaul had spoken in a week. "I'll vouch for them, innkeeper. And here's forty-five credits. I don't want to stay on the cruiser tonight."

Ry-Gaul wasn't a friend, but he was a fellow Jedi of longstanding acquaintance. Obi-Wan gestured to a table, and the three sat. _"Are_ you well, you two? You look ... different." Ry-Gaul peered into each of their faces more closely now.

Obi-Wan managed a rueful grin. "Just sunburn. We knew it was a risk leaving the crash site, but we were able to move along to accomplish the trip to Nepsa." And that was his preliminary report in a nutshell. What else could he add? "_We lost our boots during the flood just after nearly drowning in mud prior to being forced to cohabit, but following the fiery crash."_ "_Say that again? Didn't quite get it all."_

Ry-Gaul signaled for a drink, any drink. A server arrived with a pitcher of something juicy and Ry-Gaul paid her. She gave him a slightly dippy smile at the size of the tip and departed. The tall Master leaned in closer. "Do you feel something odd in the Force, Obi-Wan? I can't put my finger on it, but nearly everyone in town I interviewed is overwhelmingly mellow."

Obi-Wan knew what Ry-Gaul was talking about. Now. "It's likely to do with their Festival of Plenitude last night, Ry-Gaul," he waffled. "Everyone would seem relaxed the day after."

Anakin put in, "It's their annual fertility festival, Master Ry-Gaul. By the way, is Tru with you?"

"Poor lad, he has Togorian measles. The furry patches won't fall off for a few more days, and he is self-conscious about them. He really shouldn't be outside Temple." Was it the influence of remaining Festival effervescence in the Force, or did Ry-Gaul seem almost garrulous? Obi-Wan had never seen a garrulous Ry-Gaul. Usually the man relied upon intimidation to effect peaceful resolutions to strained situations. If that failed, his white lightsaber's work was a wonder to behold.

"I'm sorry to hear that. You had no backup for your search, then?" Obi-Wan finished his drink, feeling the distressing dialogue with Kuki pull his mood downward.

"No. And Mace briefed me prior to departure on the Billaqori situation, in case I needed to step in. I'm glad that I don't have to, and for more than the obvious reason. This is going to take some fancy talking, and we both know you are the Negotiator, not me." Ry-Gaul leaned backwards in his chair, teetering it back and forth on its balance point. He motioned to the clerk/maitre d'. "Three dinners of your best offering. We'll have them up in our room. More privacy there."

Obi-Wan's fatigue increased to sleepiness as he surveyed their second-floor room. The one double and one single bed suited the more compact Billaqori; Anakin and Ry-Gaul would have no room to truly stretch out. Obi-Wan nearly nodded off over dinner, a fish stew without much flavor. He wanted Kuki's good cooking for them during their stay on Trow. Kuki. He sighed. _She didn't believe me. I only knew that she wasn't pregnant at the time of the Force revelation early this morning. That was twelve hours after the Festival. Conception can take place a number of hours after that. _The whole farewell scene dulled his mind. _And Anakin gave me a funny look, too. Maybe it's time he was under my authority again. _He relaxed more deeply against the headboard.

Ry-Gaul's deep voice rumbled from his place on the lone chair in the room as Obi-Wan jerked his head up from Anakin's shoulder. "I said, Obi-Wan, that President Strenghis' personality over the holocommunication when I arrived this morning matches his image exactly. It will take a lot of demonstrations of Republic benevolence and practical gains in protection before he'll decide to repulse the Separatists' overtures and allow us to establish an equatorial base. But you're exhausted," Ry-Gaul added kindly. "Let's rest and arise early to discuss the situation with clear minds. I'll take the single."

The river waited.

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	24. Chapter 24

Part Twenty-Four

As a Junior Padawan, Anakin had had his bell rung the third time that he played scramball. As he lay supine on the Jedi playing field, head clamoring like a gong from Ferus' body check, an epiphany swept over him: He wasn't always going to win. He knew most of the rules of the game at this point, but not all. He knew the basics, the plays, the layups, and he was beginning to know the idiosyncrasies of his teammates, but he had an x-factor to consider. That was Ferus Olin. Ferus was two years beyond him in classes. Ferus was likeable_ all_ of the time. Anakin knew that he was not. Ferus absorbed rules the way he did lessons, by osmosis. Anakin struggled with nearly all his lessons, except those involving the Force. Those he skated ahead on, unsure if he should hold back or not to avoid seeming too different. Sometimes he did hold back. Ferus knew it when he did. Anakin didn't want to think about how Ferus knew, he simply realized that he couldn't win the times when Ferus had something over him like that. It didn't stop Anakin from playing scramball.

Another epiphany permeated Anakin's very essence the night that he and Obi-Wan shared a double bed in overcrowded Nepsa. Anakin's most vivid dream about Obi-Wan that night, the one that he would remember the next morning, involved a deserted Room of a Thousand Fountains, an unlikely occurrence. The Room was a favorite and at any odd hour, Jedi could be seen meditating, strolling, or swimming. Even Master Yoda could be found there with various Clans at times, wading with the water-shy or diving with the bold from the highest waterfall feature, clad in his thin brown maillot. Anakin moaned in his sleep at the memory. In his dream, however, the Room's cool mist thickened to a fog, obscuring Obi-Wan's outline. All but his hands. Those cool, strong hands reached out of the fog for Anakin, who stood nude atop the apex of an arched bridge. Obi-Wan's hands prodded Anakin forward, almost making him trip, forcing him to descend the sharply-canted steps too quickly. Anakin finally fell, putting his hands before him to prevent a face-plant, and turned from where he lay on the ground to glare angrily back at Obi-Wan's shrouded figure. Anakin knew that he didn't want to be on _this_ side of the bridge, that he wanted most desperately to cross back to be on the other side. He surged to his knees. Obi-Wan's hands restrained him from rising as he unbraided Anakin's plait roughly, yanking his hair, this time throwing all his Merit Beads into the water. "Hey!" Anakin scrambled for his Beads, but they had disappeared, camouflaged among all the little pebbles lining the streambed. Just before the dream ended, Anakin felt Obi-Wan's hands around his waist, but this time they were gentle and warm. Anakin woke up.

It was still pitch-black in the room. Ry-Gaul made a small rustle as he turned over in his sleep, his Force aura dimming to a dark blue again immediately. Anakin opened his eyes widely. _What a weird dream. Whenever Obi-Wan has touched me, even in training, it has been for a purpose. In the dream there was no purpose, it was something outside the Force, better than the F-- ... no, not exactly better, but having its own purpose. What could that purpose be? And what is Obi-Wan doing, grunting like that? It must be his sinuses again. Poor Master. _Before relaxing enough to go back to sleep, Anakin's epiphany showed him that he and Obi-Wan were meant to discover the mysterious dream-purpose together. It was some time before Anakin slept again.

Unfamiliar birdsong twittered in the dawn, the trills entering the room easily through the closed shutters. Obi-Wan stretched, beginning the Morning Wood kata by opening his arms and legs as widely as he could, only to stop when he felt Anakin's leg touch his. He didn't complete the exercise; he also didn't recall the dream that had given him sticky undergarments. He sensed that Anakin still lingered in the deepest slumber, but that Ry-Gaul was close to waking. He lifted up the light covering just enough to slide out from underneath it, taking care not to jostle the bed, and tiptoed into the 'fresher. _Bother._ The washcloth could only do so much, and Obi-Wan resigned himself to requesting laundry service this morning before he met with President Strenghis and addressed the Congress of Billaqori Tribes. He needed to feel his freshest, most competent self. The orange mold under the incandescent glowglobe was a mere speck now. So they had become acclimated, after all. The Billaqori of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy had not. Obi-Wan considered the fact that Jedi midichlorian levels were the cause of the difference, and dropped the matter from his thoughts in relief.

Ry-Gaul was up and dressed when Obi-Wan exited the 'fresher. It looked to be a pleasant day, judging by the amount of daylight coming through the slits in the still-shuttered windows. The twittering birds and the soft light made for a slow waking for them all. His pale eyes almost squinted shut, Ry-Gaul leaned over the double bed and observed Anakin's throat where the slitted neckline of the one-piece undergarment had strained apart sometime in the night. "I thought you said there were no injuries, Obi-Wan?" the tall Master whispered.

"Tell you later. Come on downstairs, let's allow the boy some more sleep." He'd need to negotiate himself out of this one. And he wanted Anakin to be in on the necessary deception. He'd protect their bond, their relationship, their reputation, their future. It was his job.

The river angled.

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	25. Chapter 25

Part Twenty-Five

"So how'd it happen?" Ry-Gaul helped himself to some passable grain mush from the buffet, sprinkling it with enough sweesonberry look-alike to allow a berry in each bite. He chose an upholstered booth near a window, freshly unshuttered to let in early breezes. The red tones of a summer morning sun gave a pinkish cast to his eyes.

"His neck? During the crash, I think, yes, the webbing restrained us, but the jolt was terrific, you understand that I was unconscious during part of his rescue, he was superb during the whole thing, and I didn't actually see it occur. It's greatly faded today, from yesterday, anyway. Have a Para-roll?"

"_Mm_hmm." They had finished their food and washed it down with some pulpy juice when Anakin joined them, slipping in next to Obi-Wan in the booth, opposite Ry-Gaul. Obi-Wan was relieved to note that Anakin had tugged his collar together firmly. If time permitted, he'd ask the laundry service to quickstitch a fastener of some type on the gap. Anakin ate ravenously, excusing himself when he saw Ry-Gaul's and Obi-Wan's amused looks.

"Masters, this is far above purple goo and I need to keep up my energy for the negotiations. And I don't think I've stopped growing yet. At least, I'm hungrier at breakfast than ever before." Anakin popped the last Almond-kwevvu Crisp-munchy on the table into his mouth. "Onward. Master Obi-Wan, what can I do to help you today?"

Obi-Wan tented his fingers. "You can start by telling me your observations of force pikes and glowrods. Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's Leader had them, Ry-Gaul, but not the populace. Impressions?"

"Master, one is a weapon and the other brings light; classic examples of sophistication to simple people like the outlying tribes. Those emblems would cement his position as Leader, since he has been in office only a little over one year. His constituents would respect his ties to President Strenghis even more. Add to that his obvious veneration of the Mother, and he could stay in his current position for many years."

"Well done, excellent analysis, Padawan! I am impressed. And under difficult conditions, too."

Ry-Gaul didn't miss Anakin's blush and the slight sideways nudge into his Master. Obi-Wan stiffened, but said smoothly, "And the posters?"

"There are the same posters all over town, I noticed yesterday," Ry-Gaul put in. "Same pose. Stern. Radiating control. People say he's the best President ever. They say it again and again, whether you ask them or not."

"Any sign of Separatists?"

"At the spaceport, yes. Kappa-class shuttle, all the bells and whistles. I didn't spot any guards."

Obi-Wan frowned. "They feel secure here, then. That's bad. We must be cautious."

"I think so, too. It's two hours until the meeting with President Strenghis. Why don't we separate to gather more interviews with citizens?" Ry-Gaul waved to the street outside. "We could ask them what happened to Strenghis' opposition in the last election, for instance. I don't feel malice here, Obi-Wan, nothing dark like that, but I do sense craftiness, plotting ... along with that odd feeling that I mentioned last night. It's an unusual mix."

_Last night, last night._ "Yes, fine idea. Take Anakin with you, please. I have something I need to correct before meeting Strenghis, no, it's a minor matter, Padawan, you go along with Master Ry-Gaul. I'll meet you both in the Green Room of the Presidential Villa in two hours, or whatever passes for the Green Room."

"How is your sunburn today, Master?"

"Still tingles, but better, thank you. That's one of the minor matters, getting some cream on it so that it isn't a distraction. See you in two. May The Force Be With You."

"May The Force Be With You." As Ry-Gaul led the way outdoors, Anakin turned for a final grab at the buffet table, stopping abruptly when he saw Obi-Wan pointedly draw his own neckline tighter together while gesturing at Anakin's. Anakin gave a thumbs up, snagged a handful of Algae-bread croutons, and left.

Obi-Wan signaled to the same pimply-faced teen as last night. The boy was all smiles this morning. _Maybe his sweetie got into Nepsa too late for Festival. Maybe they celebrated last night instead._ "Please direct me to the nearest, fastest laundry service, and to a local pharmacy. In that order."

The river oozed.

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	26. Chapter 26

Part Twenty-Six

Once, when Amee and Kitster and he played behind the municipal barn in Mos Espa, old Jira found them debating about fate. Kitster said that it was his fate to remain a slave, happy and cared for on Tatooine forever, valued for his skills which he was learning at his owner's knee. He lived simply, provided with shelter and food at no cost to himself. Freedom meant nothing to him. Happiness and security meant everything. Steady meals meant everything.

"But you never know when you might be sold away downplanet, or offplanet, or to someone really, really, really mean!" Amee argued. Each of them had overheard horror stories, or in Amee's case, experienced one directly. Amee never talked about it, though. She just warned others not to ever, ever go into a barn alone with someone you didn't know.

"Yeah, Kitster. If my head or hand or something wouldn't blow up, I'd run away right now. Old Watto could go jump for someone to help him." Anakin had recently done all that he could do for a severely damaged droid, but it had expired anyway. Watto had taken away Shmi's and Anakin's small pallie allotment for a week. Fruits, such as pallies, on a desert planet cost a prohibitive amount of water to produce and Watto considered himself magnanimous to offer them to slaves at all. At times he was glad he was so poor as to have only two. Anakin tried harder the next time there was a nearly-terminal droid and didn't succeed then, either. Watto didn't eliminate their fruit allotment that time. He knew that this droid's loss was fate. Watto was a mean owner, not a stupid one.

Jira looked at each of them in turn. "Kids, I'm here to tell you that security isn't everything, but it's something. Freedom is everything." Jira gave them each a pallie, on credit. She couldn't afford to do otherwise.

Anakin thought about Kitster's security attachment as he and Ry-Gaul encountered the fourth Nepsan who wouldn't venture an opinion on whether or not Trow's last planetwide election had been fair. Each citizen had been a shopowner or food vendor, someone with something to lose if he or she rocked the boat with an unpopular opinion. Or any opinion.

"Master Ry-Gaul, I have an idea."

"I'm listening." They had one hour left before rendezvousing with Obi-Wan.

"Let's go to the docks. People there aren't so upscale. We might overhear something, or find an opponent's old poster, maybe."

"You do your Master proud, Anakin." Anakin floated on that until they reached the docks. Mere meters from the water, a small _naynabo_ tree with a circular table surrounding its main trunk and seats bolted to sturdy enough roots to support weight provided a quaint area for gaming. At midmorning, only two citizens enjoyed the not-yet-hot sunshine: two oldsters with time on their hands and opinions in their heads. Getting those opinions out was the hard part. After nodding genially at them, the two players continued their game, allowing Ry-Gaul and Anakin to sit next to them in silent observation. One flatboat was unloaded in the short time it took to finish the game, although the oldsters didn't look up from their joyous, fierce concentration.

"Ahah! Got you!" One old man beamed as his opponent scowled in defeat, tipped over his last piece, and left. "Tomorrow?"

The departing man snarled over his shoulder, "Naturally!"

"Good game. Teach us?" Ry-Gaul made himself comfortable as if the answer could never be a 'no.' Anakin did the same.

"Sure. Name's Grunbi. It's dejarik. Surprised you never played it. Where you from?"

"Coruscant." Ry-Gaul cracked his knuckles. "I'm Ry-Gaul, this is my friend Anakin. We're visiting. Have you lived here long, Grunbi?"

"All my life, Mother knows. It's a good life here on Gitchy, and what I hear of other places makes me like it all the more. Things have changed here since I was young, but what hasn't?" He coughed an old man's rasping cough, and Anakin was pleased to see that he carried a handkerchief tucked in the waistband of his lavalava. And that he used it. "Board goes this way: Fight from the middle to get to the outside, fight from the outside to get to the middle." He pointed a gnarled finger to the inside concentric ring. "That's the fight zone. That's where you separate the _merps_ from the _crinks_." Anakin stopped listening. He hadn't ever seen a real-time dejarik set like this one. You had to _physically _move the pieces? And how did you keep score if one player's piece couldn't kill the other? He remembered his lessons in observing-without-looking and surveyed the surrounding docks. He saw the poster that they had seen upon arriving at Nepsa, fluttering in the freshening breeze.

"Excuse me. Gotta go ... someplace." Ry-Gaul nodded at him as he pretended to have no knowledge of dejarik's rules. Ry-Gaul was a fair actor, Anakin thought. Anakin strode to an out-of-sight spot under the dock and looked about surreptitiously. He really did have to go.

The river squirted.

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	27. Chapter 27

Part Twenty-Seven

Anakin scrutinized the poster. Underneath Strenghis' somewhat sour looks was a faded, thin sheet of another image. Anakin removed Strenghis' thick poster stock and uncovered a more cheaply-produced broadside. The first thing that he noticed was hair, lots of curling black hair, and then a hooked nose on a thin, ascetic face. The writing was again illegible, and so he had to rely on his own first impressions: idealistic, perhaps born to ease and wealth, or antithetically into genteel poverty. Strenghis' face had the hard look of a self-made man, tough because he had to be. Anakin rolled the fragile paper carefully. He walked back to the charming _naynabo_ scene. He found an upset Grunbi and a Ry-Gaul who was losing ground in his interview. They had half an hour until meeting Obi-Wan.

Grunbi's wattles shook in fear. "Why are you asking _me,_ Ry-Gaul? I didn't even vote last election. Didn't like either of them." The elderly Nepsan swept the carved dejarik pieces into their box held up to the table's edge. The old man half-stood, grabbing his cane in one tea-colored hand. Two gamepieces clattered to the ground and Anakin picked them up.

"Here, sir. We're sorry to bother you. We are strangers and need to get some background on your political situation before addressing the Congress of Tribes, that's all." He flashed his most winning smile, and it seemed to work. The elderly man sat back down. Anakin placed the roll onto the cleared table. Ry-Gaul presented a calm front, a soothing front with more than a little Force suggestion that Grunbi could go in peace after he answered some questions. Anakin felt the intimidation through the Force himself.

"Yes, that's the other candidate, Rondil Murt. Old _Mother's Pet,_ we called him. Never did a day's work; his family didn't believe in it and had enough shares in Nepsan Amalgamated Shipping to indulge themselves. But they loved Trow, and their family produced president after president. Murt was just like the rest of them, believing that Trow and her traditions should never change. He didn't think a Murt would ever lose an election."

Even seated, Ry-Gaul towered over the shrunken old man, imbuing his words and presence with a slight Force enhancement. Anakin caught a glimpse of his quiet power. He didn't think that he could emulate it, and wasn't sure that he wanted to. "Rondil Murt offered something different than Strenghis, didn't he?" Ry-Gaul held out the tattered bit of poster. "Could you translate this for us, please?"

Grunbi smoothed the image. "_'Don't change your aloas in midstream_.' See, Murt ran things a long time his way --- people were stagnating in the cities, yet the countryside has its traditions and lots of work for food producers. That means everyone in the backcountry gets into a groove of observing the Mother's calendar, not just the Festival of Plenitude, the favorite one, by the way, but the rhythm of the river, the way the years pass so smoothly, so peacefully ... " Grunbi's eyes grew distant. "And before you know it, you're on your funeral barge, given to Gitchy, who takes you to her source, the Mother. Well." He came back to the present from his past and his future. "Ry-Gaul, Murt was the past, and we of Trow, but especially Nepsa, wanted change. And we got it. Oh, yes, we got it."

"You sound like change is a bad thing." Anakin recalled the Boonta Eve races and the parties during Boonta Eve Advent. He wouldn't have wanted those to change, even though he never attended any of the parties. It had been fun to peek through the gathering crowds at the celebrities arriving at the races prior to his being in one, even though now he was nostalgic about who he thought then was a celebrity.

"Sometimes it is, young Anakin. Separatists visited right after the war started; it was no big secret. They were nice people. They gave presents and said they would bring more than force pikes to everyone if Strenghis agreed to join them. He's kept them at bay for a little over a year now; he's got support among the Leaders of backcountry villages, especially one old friend, Qikal."

"We've heard of him." Ry-Gaul's voice was as bland as Trow's cuisine.

xxxxxx

"Mememememe, momomomomo, maymaymaymaymay, mymymymymy, ooh, ooh,_ ooh, ooh, **OOOOH, **ooh, ooh, _ooh, ooooh. Ptui." The Negotiator cleared his pipes, loosening his vocal cords. Through the years, Obi-Wan's voice had developed an unfortunate tendency to squeak under stress. Before any public speaking, he centered himself, visualizing his cords relaxing, thickening for bass tones, though his would never be a true bass. He wondered how Ithorians kept their vocal abilities in trim as he worked his highest range, visualizing the cords symmetrical and perfect, no uneven stretches and certainly none that would produce embarrassing squeaks. The exercise worked nearly all the time.

"Mr. President, venerable members of Congress. May the Mother grant that we all reach the next Festival season in good health," he practiced diligently. Also through the years, Obi-Wan had invoked deities both benevolent and fiercely protective. That he wanted to remain in good health for another year was true enough. Another Festival of Plenitude was anathema, however. Far too embarrassing, too revealing, too ... confusing. Why had his body reacted ecstatically to Anakin's presence? He didn't know. It was more than pity, it was more like ...

"Master." Anakin burst in the door, remembering at the last minute to defer to Ry-Gaul's report before his own. Yes, his Padawan needed to recite the Respect-for-Master's-Authority and soon.

"News?"

The river cascaded.

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	28. Chapter 28

Part Twenty-Eight

Anakin lowered his head respectfully as Ry-Gaul began his report. "Strenghis' last rival, the incumbent for twenty years, took a long 'vacation' after the election. He claims that his health was damaged by the strains of politicking and now he doesn't speak publicly. This, from someone whose entire family history is one of public service. Sounds like intimidation to me."

_And you would know about that, wouldn't you, Master Ry-Gaul?_ Anakin knelt to adjust his sandals. Maybe Master Ry-Gaul had spare footgear on the cruiser? His toes and heels were taking a beating. Ry-Gaul sat rigidly on one of the Green Room's benches. The Presidential Villa's decor emphasized solid wood furniture, cunningly carved with not a metal fastening in view. All the joints were dovetailed in fine craftsmanship.

Obi-Wan turned in his seat back to regarding his appearance in the modest dressing table's mirror. He twisted his head and shrugged his shoulders._ Ouch._

Ry-Gaul winced in sympathy as he continued. "The Separatists have been here sporadically for over one year, distributing a few pieces of higher technology to various authorities. The citizen we interviewed was an elderly man, Grunbi, with plenty opinions as to why Strenghis changed things. First the facts: Strenghis is registering everyone from young adulthood to late middle age for a draft into a three-year national service, not just here in the southern region, but planetwide. Grunbi thought I was an agent for Strenghis, prying for dissenters. It has not gone as far as detainment camps, nothing like we saw on Nington, Obi-Wan, but the seeds are here. It helps that Trow's population is small and that there are so many rural citizens. Strenghis has held off committing for a year. Something has to pop soon. Strenghis doesn't have to have the Force to realize that."

Ry-Gaul watched in silence as Anakin anticipated his Master's next movements and stood behind his chair, lifting both inner and outer tunics away from Obi-Wan's sunburned neck. Obi-Wan flicked Anakin a grateful glance in the mirror as he opened the pot of soothing cream and smeared a thin line on his neck where the tunic would irritate the still-rosy skin. He took a few minutes to think as he rubbed his hands to dissipate the cream. "Strenghis is mobilizing his forces, and if Qikal has a small stash of weapons, he's in on it. Could Strenghis be fool enough to play both ends against the middle? Use the Separatists' bribes, because that is what the 'gifts' were, back on them in a show of arms, and even on us if we try to sway them?"

The same thought flashed on all three Jedi's minds.

"You're going to have to show the Ohma-D'un vid, Master." Anakin voiced. "Trow doesn't realize the full scope of this war."

"Perhaps. Let's hope it doesn't come to it, but if that is what it will take ... "

A gong sounded nearby. "I'm ready. Padawan, you may observe with Master Ry-Gaul in the gallery this morning; perhaps in the afternoon session, you and he will speak your impressions firsthand. I shall open with a joke after the invocation, I think, perhaps an amusing anecdote about our Supreme Chancellor to show his more fallible side to them, compare him to a father-figure whose only wish is to protect his supplicants ... "

"No, please don't, Obi-Wan." "Erm, humor isn't your strong point, Master." Ry-Gaul and Anakin spoke together.

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow.

"Remember the Yimpian incident, Obi-Wan," Ry-Gaul intoned solemnly.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Perhaps you're right. A straightforward presentation, then." He rose and nearly tripped over his sandals. "Ry-Gaul, is there any way to ... "

"I'll see what I can do at lunchtime, Obi-Wan. May The Force Be With You."

Anakin echoed the farewell.

The river descended.

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	29. Chapter 29

Part Twenty-Nine

_This is an almighty small Congress._ Fifty-three representatives of the Congress of Billaqori Tribes sat in seven spacious rows of seamless, backless benches, with a narrow walkway cutting through for access to the speaker's platform, which was one meter above the highly polished wooden floor. The seven rows climbed two steps each to a circular promenade about the Congressional seating area. Light from clerestories made the wood gleam amber. _Master looks good, even without his full length of hair and beard. More like he did when we first met. _Anakin's and Ry-Gaul's seats were in the first row of the crowded gallery and they leaned over the railing when Obi-Wan began to speak.

"Mr. President, venerable members of Congress. May the Mother grant that we all reach the next Festival season in good health. My name is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and I represent the Galactic Republic. I bring warmest greetings from her Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and from our Senate to your Congress." Obi-Wan sought Strenghis' familiar face from the poster and Mace's briefing and found it not in the nearest row, but in the highest, clustered with three other Congressmembers. Obi-Wan assumed these were his Cabinet. He continued building up to the main thrust of his address. "In recent times, Trow has seen change to ready her for a more active role in her sector's politics. Trow has now reached a point where her allegiance is being sought by both the Republic and the Separatists." Obi-Wan's circling glance at his audience centered on Strenghis mere seconds longer than on the rest. "The Separatists have a dispute with their parent, the Galactic Republic, that they have been unable to resolve peacefully. They have seen fit to form their own Confederacy of Independent Systems, which we refuse to legitimize in the hopes that reconciliation will still be possible. It is the desire of the CIS that ten thousand systems will eventually join their cause. I am here, along with my colleagues, to prevent Trow from taking that misstep." _That was the warning. Now here comes the alternative._ "We of the Republic offer Trow our protection in the form of the Grand Army of the Republic. Its fine Clone troops will respond to any call to arms for you. For your sector's protection, we ask in return permission to build a base near your equator. It will contain a small maintenance force that can be augmented by battalions at a moment's notice."_ Finally, an offer of hope. _"At the war's successful end, Trow will remain in good standing with the Republic and will be offered one extra seat in the Senate, should she care to join. I am open for questions at this time."

Obi-Wan heard someone cracking nuts in the ensuing silence. He knew it couldn't be Anakin. In contrast to other governing groups, the Senate most egregiously, this body thought before it spoke. Three minutes later the first question came. "If we join the Separatists, they offer the same things, plus upgrades on our spaceport here at Nepsa. Can you match?" It seemed the custom for each inquirer to stand.

_A dialogue established. Good._ "I can. And I will offer a pre-owned but entirely spaceworthy SoroSuub V-35 Courier also." _She will be, when she is dredged from Gitchy, viewport repaired, systems rewired, dejarik table replaced, water pumped out ..._

"What of the gifts that the Separatists made? Do you have something comparable?" Obi-Wan couldn't see the shadowed faces in the upper seats, but from the point of origin it was a Cabinet member.

"Supreme Chancellor Palpatine asks us to implore you to think carefully on your allegiance. If you grant us the privilege of aligning with you and constructing a base near Gitchy's upper reaches, we will bring instructors to teach you to read Basic as well as speak it. We will impact your inspiring natural beauty as little as possible, while providing local employment."

_We will open cantinas with liquor and exotic food, food with fiery spices in it to ameliorate your blandness. Will Qikal approve?_ Anakin didn't think so. Ry-Gaul sat, all attention, at his side on the unending bench accommodations. The lack of back support did not faze him at all. Anakin straightened in his seat. _Go for the aurodium, Master._

"We have heard that a fallen Jedi is the political head of the Confederacy. What do you have to say about that?" It was President Strenghis' first question. He remained in his seat. His voice was low and firm, a quietly powerful instrument.

Obi-Wan did not falter. "True. Count Dooku leads the Confederacy, insinuating that the Republic is a lost cause to reforming bureaucracy's inaction. He proposes an alternative galactic power, yes. He enforces his ideals with the aid of one of the most merciless military minds the galaxy has ever known, General Grievous."

"What if --- "

"Tell me, Master Jedi, are there any neutrals in this war?" Strenghis again. The interrupted Congressmember sat down.

The Negotiator hesitated.

The river meandered.

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	30. Chapter 30

Part Thirty

During the unending night when Obi-Wan's fate seemed to be permanent assignment to the AgriCorps the following morning, he accessed one or two files on gardening before sinking into a funk. Gardening used the Living Force aspect to an alarming degree. He would be expected to aid in providing food for the galaxy, which appealed to his altruism; it was the down and dirty part that took him aback. Matching crops to the correct soil conditions ascertained through the Force's display of finely graded ratios of nutrients and minerals, combined with climatology divination, seemed like laboratory work to him. He hadn't expected that to be in his life to such a degree. He would rather rely on the Jedi Analysis room droids, SP4 and the like. He hadn't wanted to become a droid himself. They were programmed to be neutral.

Then Qui-Gon burst in on his life. In one way, Qui-Gon was the essence of neutrality. He would have communed with the stoneslugs to their capacity, maybe apologized to them before relishing their pink flesh. Had situations been reversed and the stoneslugs feasted on _him_, Qui-Gon would have accepted the situation with his usual grace. When Tahl joined the Force, Qui-Gon's neutrality deserted him temporarily, but returned after a long, sad while. In those days years ago, neutrality was possible in the galaxy. These were not those days.

He had to be honest. "There are. Bothawui began as neutral and still is. Orto began as neutral, but latest reports are of a coup and Intel doesn't yet know the outcome. Neutrality is possible, Mr. President, but I would be dissembling if I did not inform you that this war is escalating and the chances are that neutrality will not be respected by the Separatists." _So Strenghis thinks he can stay neutral. And have sophisticated weapons. And outwit the Separatists. Mother._

"Thank you, Master Jedi, for your report. We here have much to discuss, but first, some refreshment. Please join me for lunch outside on this lovely day."

_Mmmmmm, maybe there'll be stoneslugs. I'm hungry. _A buffet set up on trestles in a flagstoned courtyard held the usual things at these functions: two or three complex dishes to show off Cook's talents, along with staples for the finicky. Obi-Wan, Ry-Gaul, and Anakin bypassed the staples, large steam tubs of purple mucilage, for the adequately presented grain mush dotted with chopped stoneslugs, also choosing tumblers of a clear juice. Anakin couldn't look at the steamed whole fish which had yellow eyes.

President Strenghis sought them out. The duly elected leader of Trow projected an aura of purpose tinged with deceit. Within his scope, he ruled Trow with all his might. It was the lack of scope in the broad meshes of the President's mind that alerted Obi-Wan that here was someone to instruct. Obi-Wan determined to instruct him, but Strenghis got in the first word. "An honor to embrace you, Master Jedi." Obi-Wan put down his plate and they exhanged the hearty embrace of the Billaqori. It lingered long after it should have, Strenghis' stocky form giving a squeeze that lifted Obi-Wan from his feet. Obi-Wan used Jedi breath control to avoid heaving his chest in an attempt to breathe, and grinned as he looked Strenghis in the eye. He returned the clasp harder and harder until Strenghis' grip loosened. They both stepped back. Strenghis settled on a bench and gestured. "Gentlemen, keep me company, please." The Congress paid attention to their meals, rarely speaking. It made for a nice break from trying to converse, balancing a full plate on one's lap, and laughing at questionably funny jokes that the Jedi routinely endured. The three of them relaxed.

Half an hour later, Congressmembers straddled benches or lounged informally on the ground around the President and his guests. One elderly woman nodded in the almost-hot sun. This was new, this was disarming. Obi-Wan tensed.

"We have one question."

"I shall do my best."

A Cabinet member stood tall, her lavalava cinched with a raffia belt interwoven with liana blossoms. "And the Jedi leading the army? We have heard of your extraordinary abilities. As a Master, can you give a demonstration?"

This should never enter the equation, but it usually did. It didn't matter that the Force was real and true and fueled his heart; Obi-Wan always felt like a charlatan when asked to demonstrate its power. In the middle of the courtyard, a _naynabo_ tree, the largest one the Jedi had seen, bloomed in full summer glory. It had no seats secured to it; nothing occluded its natural beauty. Obi-Wan would need Anakin's help and their bond for this. He spoke in a low voice to the young man. "Anakin, a small assist, please. Follow my lead." In a graceful gesture, the two Jedi placed their hands at waist-level and opened their fingers as if cupping something in their palms. Nothing happened for many minutes. The Force operated quietly and with its own agenda, as it usually did. Then the remaining unopened small red blossoms unfolded in slow motion, twitching as if in a tiny breeze. As everyone watched, these newest blooms stopped developing at their peak. The three Jedi gasped along with the small crowd. The others couldn't read it, but to Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ry-Gaul, a distinct Osk and Aurek appeared, contrasting with the older, slightly faded blooms. "It's an optical illusion, Padawan. It's chance," Obi-Wan said and turned to address the group.

The river stammered.

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	31. Chapter 31

Part Thirty-One

"Yes, we are Jedi and we represent the Republic, but we are a very small part of the Republic," Obi-Wan began, putting the flowers out of his mind. "Our Order is involved with the Republic's fate, but has its separate governing body, just like your Congress. The relationship is ... complex. Both the Jedi and the Republic stand together in this: we are for democracy, rules by elected leaders. We hope you will join us."

_The Council isn't elected, Master. It's all who you know, in this case, the Force, if it can be characterized as a "who." But I don't think it can._ Anakin stood when Ry-Gaul did. "Obi-Wan, I'll hotfoot it back to the cruiser for your --- "

_ching-wheep! ching-wheep!_

Ry-Gaul turned aside. "Excuse me." He plucked his comm from a pocket inside his right boot. "Present. Yes. Bad? _How_ high? Fairly well. I'll see. Put him on ... oh, he can't. Ah, ah, Ry-Gaul out." Ry-Gaul lost whatever bonhomie had graced him these last few days. "Tru's had a relapse. He's feverish, calling for me." Ry-Gaul's strong features more resembled his reserved nature from their other missions together. Obi-Wan had considered him a bit cold before Trow, but now he thought that Ry-Gaul was as deep as Gitchy.

_Tru's worse?_ "You should return, Master Ry-Gaul. Master and I have things under control here."

Ry-Gaul looked startled at Anakin's speaking first. He spoke only to Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan. I'll give my statement on a holovid. It ought to add some weight to your argument."

"Certainly you may go. And Ry-Gaul, thank you for everything. Padawan, I want you to go over your speech in your mind. Use a holovid to record yourself to see how you sound, if need be. And get Ry-Gaul's copy of the Ohma-D'un vid ready, just in case. Bring it back here."

"Do you expect to have to use it? Makes me sick to watch it."

Another clue to Ry-Gaul's character. "No, I don't. It's a last ditch strategy. Oh, and Ry-Gaul, do you have any spare boots, clogs, anything that could possibly fit us on board?"

"Yes, I recollect there's a bin for lost and found. Sometimes when we transport delegations without their entourages the pols get a little groggy and forget things. I'll see." Ry-Gaul was already striding his long strides out of the courtyard and down the block, forgetting the Jedi farewell to Obi-Wan. Anakin hurried after him.

At the spaceport, fewer than thirty ships were docked. Ry-Gaul slapped the ramp control and he and Anakin boarded, getting directly to business. The cruiser was a non-descript forty-two meter long nonentity, something that Anakin could have modded in his sleep. "Ahem," he said into the holorecorder. "Padawan Skywalker here. I support whatever my Master and Master Ry-Gaul say. The End." He played it back. His voice was as nondescript as the cruiser, but he was all right with the notion that he would never have his Master's mellifluous tones. At Congress, he would be the last to speak, possibly answering a few questions. These Trow people didn't seem the garrulous sort. _Good. Tru's the only talkative one I want to be around. Tru._ He saw that Ry-Gaul had finished his deposition and was rummaging in a cubic meter-sized bin, throwing belts and a cluster of tiaras onto the floor. "Master Ry-Gaul, is Tru bad off?"

"It's not fatal, it's just unexpected. He's never been this ill before. I want to be there, and as you said, it's under control here." At the bottom were extra sets of human/humanoid size underwear, some unmatched socks, a dinner jacket fitted for someone the size of a Phlog, and three pairs of soft boots. Two looked decently fitting, one pair slightly too large for Obi-Wan, but smaller than comfortable for Anakin, and the other too large for Anakin. But workable. Ry-Gaul placed the Ohma-D'un vid and his holorecording into Anakin's hands with alacrity as he walked him down the ramp. The two paused at its foot.

"Privacy is allowed, Anakin," Ry-Gaul said. "Keep your private things private."

"Wh-What do you mean?" Anakin could barely speak. Ry-Gaul was being kind, but he suspected something.

"I mean that touching your Master twice today without a thought for the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, almost speaking out of turn in the Green Room --- "

_--- yeah, that's real rebellious, that is ---_

" --- and the flowers --- Anakin, don't do anything that you'll regret."

Ry-Gaul wasn't accessing the Force for intimidation, but Anakin remembered Grunbi's interview that morning and it was enough to compress his voice, his heart into watchfulness. _Am I giving off signals? Would he pick them up, Force or not?_

"Think about your Master. Think about yourself. You are important just as you are."

_Master needs me just as I am._

"You need Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan, from what I know of him through the years" --- Ry-Gaul smoothed the liquid sheen of the Jedi cruiser's outer skin and did not look at Anakin --- "needs to be needed." The tall master's lips curved in a tiny smile. "So take care. I can't imagine what's gotten into me on Trow. I'll be back to normal on Coruscant." He looked sideways at Anakin. "And I'll be quiet again. About everything. May The Force Be With You."

"Tell Tru to get well soon. May The Force Be With You." Anakin took the spare boots, each pair of which wouldn't quite fit, and returned to the Presidential Villa.

The river sank.

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	32. Chapter 32

Part Thirty-Two

Obi-Wan knew that he was going to have to show the Ohma-D'un holovid today when Anakin handed him the boots and said, "Master, I'm sensing that their minds are closing fast." Obi-Wan knew that he had failed today and perhaps for good in this mission when, back in the Congressional chambers, the Ohma-D'un holovid of unspeakable atrocities did not make a single Congressmember lose his lunch. Throughout scenes of Gungans gasping for a final breath or gurgling even more unintelligible speech than usual, when eyestalks imploded and viscid tongues melted from sagging lips, when kneecaps separated from twitching thighs, the Billaqori observed in silence. As the recording finished, President Strenghis asked one question. "What did your Republic do to invoke this?"

Obi-Wan masked his surprise at their bland attitude. He himself had almost fainted when opening to the Living Force on Ohma-D'un and perceiving the pernicious blot of the Separatists' new level of outrage. "Ohma-D'un had done nothing but be in the Galaxy at a time of supreme warfare." He felt almost as dizzy now as on that sickening day. This was heading in the wrong direction, this was escalating out of control.

"I see." Strenghis said nothing more and the silence lengthened. The clerestories admitted a late afternoon glow that turned the smooth wood in the chamber from amber to a dark honey color, similar to Anakin's hair. Anakin plucked the holoprojector from its place on the speaker's platform, switched it off, and stood in rigid amazement at his Master's side. _How can they not be affected? _Only by breathing deeply had he soothed his nausea, layering his mind with pleasant memories of Naboo and of sweet Padmé. Naboo's grandeur should not have to exist in close proximity to her soiled moon, Ohma-D'un. It was beneath her dignity.

"Mr. President, I stand upon the Republic's integrity, and my own since I have seen _firsthand_ these awful things, in saying that the Gungans and the spice miners on this moon did no wrong. But perhaps you need to hear someone else. Padawan."

Anakin stepped on the platform and blurted out the first thing on his mind. "Don't be afraid of the Republic. Be afraid of the Separatists." _Fear and withdrawal, that's what they're doing. Plus their leader has a lot of gall._ "I was on Ohma-D'un, also, sirs, and madams, too, of course, and in many other encounters with the Separatists since then, and well, the Republic may not be perfect --- "

_Padawan!_

" --- but it's the right way to go here. You can ask me questions, if you want to."

_Will charm succeed where debate has not?_ Obi-Wan still didn't know as he and Anakin trudged to their inn after dismissal an hour later. Tomorrow's session could be disastrous. He had not one idea left to persuade them. Strenghis was the keystone and his misguided protection of his home could doom his planet. The two Jedi avoided eye contact with the inn's staff and with each other as they clumped up the stairs and entered the room. The shutters were closed and the beds made neatly enough. They both had no appetite for dinner beyond the single piece of sweesonberry-lookalike candy left on each pillow and plumped down wearily on each of the beds.

_Guess I'll take the single now. No need to crowd Master. I wish it were a longer bed, though. _Of all the events in the past week, Anakin found himself pondering his dream. And the mysterious dream-purpose. Talking about it would take Obi-Wan's mind off today's proceedings.

"Master."

"Mmmmm?"

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"I slept exceptionally well, thank you. And you?"

"Not quite. I can only remember one dream out of it, though."

_It must be a dilly for him to recall it. _"Tell me about it, Anakin."

The river paused.

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	33. Chapter 33

Part Thirty-Three

Anakin whispered, "You hurt me, Master." It was a muggy night and the two had stripped to skivvies. They had opened the shutters to let in stray breezes and two or three annoying flitterbugs that butted now and then against the puny glowglobe on the nightstand.

"Only in a dream, my Padawan. You'll never be hurt by me intentionally."_ Whatever did Anakin think?_ "I am your teacher. When I cut, not unravel, your braid in real life, I will not be hurting you, I will be fulfilling the Force's will." _And Qui-Gon's will, that you become a Jedi Knight, wherever that may lead you as our Chosen One. _"When I pushed you down the steps too fast and you fell, that was your resentment talking. And when I threw your Merit Beads into the water, that was your projection of _my_ resentment. We've been together too much at times. It's natural for unexpressed feelings to bubble over into dreams."

_Unexpressed._ "And your hands that changed from mean and cold to soft and warm on my waist?"

Obi-Wan looked away. "I don't know. Maybe a holdover from our, our, detour to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy."

"There was a reason I said that I wanted to be closer to you, Master." Anakin placed his hand on Obi-Wan's bare knee. "I think the reason was that my --- _our_ --- intimacy could help this mission."

"This mission will fail or succeed by the will of the Force, Anakin. Of course, we as Jedi and representatives of the Republic want it to succeed."

"I think --- I _feel_ that the Force wants it to succeed, too, Master. What if I'm right and you're wr-wrong?" All the signs pointed to him being right: the recalling of Ry-Gaul to give them privacy, the half-remembered dreams since puberty, the bouquet with their _initials_, for kriff's sake. He couldn't quite work in Tru's illness as a factor, but he wouldn't be at all surprised if the Force could. Anakin jumped happily ahead to a vision of two lovers entwined face-to-face, seeing their mutual desires in each other's eyes, nothing like that shamed affair on Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's dark commons.

Obi-Wan, caught at a low moment, sighed. "You keep on saying 'closer,' Anakin. There's only one more way for us to be closer, and ... and ... "

Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan's knee, sliding his thumb in the crease behind it firmly. He drew his thumb back and forth. He looked at Obi-Wan and knew why the Force had allowed the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release to run this long. There was no outward physical emergency in this quiet room. There was a Force-driven one, though, even if he couldn't see it.

"Now wait a moment, Anakin. We've never --- I've never given you cause --- stop that, Anakin, I can't think --- " _Starting to tickle; must not laugh._

"The Force doesn't want you to think, Master, not here, not now." His old dreams, his latest dream, the Mother's interference, it all made sense now. The Force meant Anakin to be Obi-Wan's, just as it meant Obi-Wan to be Anakin's. This night would prove it. And there were the flowers. What else _could_ the Force mean? The ominous presence of the fog in the always serene, always beautiful Room of a Thousand Fountains shielded some event dark and terrible, and Anakin was afraid to try to discern more about it. He would rather think about the flowers.

Obi-Wan considered the same events less passionately, never realizing that he was the cause of so much work for the Temple's washing machines when Anakin was fifteen and started laundering his own sheets. He caught sight of Anakin's hickey as Anakin leaned forward and the undergarment's neckline widened. The mottled bruise showed and _surely_ it was his imagination that the red marks interposed on tanned skin formed an Osk. He blinked and the illusion was gone. He got to his feet in record time, Anakin matching his speed so that they both stood in the narrow space between the beds.

"Haven't you ever been tempted, Master?" The flitterbugs pounded madly against the weak glowglobe's luminance.

"No," Obi-Wan said stoutly. "Not like that, anyway. I've been tempted by the Dark Side, Anakin, and I gave in when the Sith hurt Qui-Gon enough to kill him and I planned to pull out the Zabrak's horns one by one and cram them into his eyes. I gave in to temptation and suffered for it, because it nearly worked, I nearly Fell on Naboo because of temptation and I shall not do so on Trow."

Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan never ranted once. He stated these soul-clenching events calmly, in a clear teaching voice, the one that he always used. _Oh, Anakin, stop judging. He's had nights of brooding to think about the events. Qui-Gon has been in the Force for eleven years. Master's not going to tear up over it now._ More rationalizing, more maturity. He was going to have to watch out or he'd grow up. "What I want from you isn't Dark. Not even close."

The river approached.

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	34. Chapter 34

Part Thirty-Four

Obi-Wan stood his ground when Anakin stepped up toe-to-toe, but blocked his Padawan's arm from touching his chest. "You know what 'no attachments' means. You're not stupid. And I don't love you that way, Anakin."

"You don't know how good it can be." Anakin knew that he could love Obi-Wan the same way that he loved Padmé, the same sweet obsession that told him he could never share Obi-Wan with anyone, just like he could never share Padmé with anyone. It was the dream-purpose that told him differently. The dream-purpose said, _Love nourishes, it doesn't consume either the lover or the loved one. Stay on the Light side of the bridge, Jedi. Don't you let Obi-Wan push you to the Dark. It's for his greater good._

At that statement, Obi-Wan did lose his composure. "And _you_ do? Who were you with? And when? We are together nearly all the time, except for ... for ... the Zone of Self-Containment! That's when it happened! Was it Zan Arbor? Did she experi--- "

"Stars and galaxies, Ob--- Master! I'm talking about fucking in general!"

"Ohhhh." Obi-Wan didn't use that word at all, and Anakin did only when pushed to extremes. Which he was now. Obi-Wan changed tactics, and stepped back. He turned away from Anakin's intent gaze that made him so uncomfortable. He felt like he was the one being trained. _Am I? The Force isn't done with me yet, is that it?_ He had failed today in convincing Strenghis to join the Republic's cause. Strenghis thought naively that neutrality was possible, that he could gather force pikes or maybe even artillery from the Seps --- Obi-Wan knew he was upset when he resorted to epithets --- to have a show of arms to discourage Republic involvement, and then turn around to threaten the Seps into leaving Trow alone. Strenghis' love for his home touched Obi-Wan, but his ignorance of the conflict's scope depressed him. To protect Trow from Strenghis' misguided leadership, Obi-Wan might have to defend his Negotiator title. Maybe Anakin could help him do it. Maybe, just maybe, Anakin was right.

"Anakin, let's talk."

_Here it comes. A teachable moment._ "Let's not." Anakin pinned Obi-Wan's arms to his body with a bear hug from the side. He took advantage of the moment to fumble a kiss into Obi-Wan's ear, but kissed bristly hair instead. It was gratifying and relieving when Obi-Wan snorted humorously and turned sideways into a full embrace. They looked each other in the eyes before they both closed their eyes and leaned into a kiss that deepened briefly. Anakin took the lead a second later. Almost blinded by excitement, he nearly dropped them both on Ry-Gaul's old bed, but angled their fall at the last moment onto the double. This time he had no trouble getting hard. He pushed images of the Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy commons onto their bond and shoved them through. Through their undergarments, he could feel Obi-Wan getting hard, too.

_There are those shields again, Padawan, what other secrets do you hide, mmmmm? Scents, sounds of Billaqori festivities, Qikal's glowrod coming closer, watch out Anakin, help me to help you Anakin, don't move Anakin, no I mean to say Move!_ Anakin murmured a "Sorry!" when he rubbed Obi-Wan's sunburned neck with his glove and Obi-Wan hissed into his mouth. They only lightly touched lips as their hands roamed downwards together to free each other's erections before drifting to the garment's dropseat and placing each a bracing hand within. As they pressed together, not moving at all in a tantalizing stasis, Anakin Force-called the last piece of candy, the one left on Ry-Gaul's pillow, unwrapped it in midair, and caught it in his teeth. He bit down slightly on his half to hold it. He rubbed it over Obi-Wan's stubbled cheek, getting it closer and closer to his mouth, when Obi-Wan snapped his head to the side and bit the confection in half.

_Sweet, so sweet._ Obi-Wan used the Force frivolously himself and found one end of Anakin's braid tie, looping it around to undo it from the glossy hair. He removed one-by-one the three Merit Beads, the yellow Perfect Attendance one that nearly everyone received, the blue Most Improved In Swordsmanship: Junior Division one, and the green Self-Control In Meditation one that had taken Anakin years to earn. He placed them reverentially and safely in the cup next to the complimentary juice carafe behind the glowglobe. The braid unraveled next, three silky brown strands feathering into one wavy length that Obi-Wan yearned to slide his fingers through, but both his hands were occupied now. _I'm looking forward to it._

Anakin removed his hands regretfully from tender skin fore and back, having decided that they both were overclothed, and pulled apart the fastenings on the side of the thin garment. He sat up to wriggle out of it impatiently, tearing the underarm seams but not caring in the least. It was the work of a moment to unfasten Obi-Wan's, too, and as he skinned his Master out of his last bit of clothing, he flashed back to his own attack of Togorian measles when he was eleven. Anakin couldn't bear any clothing to touch the itching, furry patches and Obi-Wan had allowed him to lay about their quarters in nothing but his skin. Obi-Wan had pushed up the room temperature to nearly Tatooine-like levels, but had only disrobed to his inner set of tunics. Anakin had thought the man inhuman at that time and since, but now he was revising his opinion.

The river flowed.

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	35. Chapter 35

Part Thirty-Five

Anakin pushed things along when he rolled Obi-Wan on top of him, his weight supported on one of Anakin's hips and their bodies at an angle so that their cocks weren't crushed, merely springing upwards to an even greater height, if possible. Obi-Wan leaned up on one elbow and looked downwards to watch themselves rub together, but the elbow slipped on sweating skin and smacked into Anakin's throat on the bruised side. " ... mmmunngh ... " Obi-Wan kissed it better, slipping once again to Anakin's side. Anakin whimpered when he felt Obi-Wan drag his lips downwards and twist his compact body around, never breaking contact, ending up with his head next to Anakin's waist. Obi-Wan broke off the lick long enough to slide one warm hand underneath the small of Anakin's back, curling the fingers upward into a grip on the far side. _Hands ... warm ... waist ... dream ... yes._ Anakin thought that he could join the Force right then and there, but if he did, then he would have missed the inexpressible sensation of Obi-Wan's tongue spiralling _inwards_ from Anakin's hipbone with lapping loops until Obi-Wan reached Anakin's left ball. Obi-Wan probed it gently, trailing upwards to where the sac joined it to its mate in a puckered seam. "_Stop_ ... won't last ... _please_ ... "

Master Yoda could not have stopped faster than Obi-Wan, sticking his tongue back into his mouth, spitting out a few hairs in the process. He panted excitedly, running a hand along Anakin's flank as they both wondered what to do next. Anakin, thinking guiltily about what Padmé liked, sat up, grabbed a pillow and put it on his lap. He placed the other pillow against the headboard, scootching around until he was directly in the center of the bed and the pillow was supporting his shoulders. He reached to the side, took Obi-Wan's right knee and pulled it across his body so that he had one knee on either side of his hips. He rubbed a soothing hand over Obi-Wan's ass, poking his fingers into the tense cheeks until they relaxed. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at him questioningly, saw Anakin smile, and raised himself up on both elbows between Anakin's legs to wait for whatever Anakin was going to do next.

Anakin began kneading Obi-Wan's ass, marveling at the little line of hair trailing down his spine, waist to cheeks. It was as auburn as the hair on Obi-Wan's head, and in the pinkish light of the glowglobe it looked like aurodium dust. He trailed a flesh finger between the cheeks, down the divide to the perineum and back up again. He did this eight times, and each time Obi-Wan huffed a breath when his opening was brushed. On the ninth time, Anakin spat on his finger and pushed in a little before resuming the routine.

Obi-Wan slumped bonelessly forward off his elbows' support, turning his cheek to one side against the mattress. Anakin was his Padawan. Anakin would not hurt him. This was new, this was strange. Obi-Wan relaxed completely. He put one hand on each of Anakin's ankles and rubbed his thumbs over the anklebones rhythmically. He couldn't access the Force right now, but he didn't need to. This was the same situation as existed on Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's commons, an _other_ sense unlike the real galaxy. The only difference was that there was no urgency to prove anything to a proctor. At thirty-six, Obi-Wan felt sometimes that he had nothing left _to_ prove; although some would call that egotism, he called it realism. He was the Sithkiller, a Jedi Master, on the Council, and Master of the Chosen One in his Order. Short of joining the Force in his due time, he had few ambitions. Whoever his Padawan was after Anakin's departure for Knighthood, Obi-Wan felt like he had conquered whatever mysteries of childhood's and adolescence's behavior existed. The next kid could pull no fast ones at all. Obi-Wan felt somewhat sorry for his future Padawans. _Ouch._

"Master ... _kiss ..._sorry ..._ kiss ... " _Anakin corkscrewed forward until he could kiss Obi-Wan's vertebrae somewhere midway along his tense back. He had taken advantage of Obi-Wan's reverie to try a prostate massage, inching forward bit by bit in the same fashion that he used with Padmé when they did other things, although of course with Padmé he had no such target. When Master Luminara had done Anakin's prostate exam, the entire atmosphere reeked unromantically of proper physical hygiene and good health. She was in and out in less than a minute; then again, she had the advantage of micron gloves and blobs of lube. Anakin tried to remember the proper procedure, resuming his stilled finger's activity when Obi-Wan stopped clenching. There, a little forward and up top ...

_Goodgoodgood betterbetterbetterbetter _Obi-Wan shoved hard into the pillow, squeezing Anakin's ankles. He barely noticed when Anakin slid his mechno-hand under the pillow to provide a pressuring groove of sorts. Obi-Wan did notice when the finger inside stepped up the action into a soft, fast tapping and then the galaxy turned to white noise, everything turned to white noise with not a single outstanding feature except pleasure. _betterbetterbest._ Obi-Wan arched his back, came and collapsed.

Anakin removed his finger, flexing his ankles to loosen his Master's painful grip. He noted abstractedly that the orgasmic flush turned Obi-Wan's sunburn into a shade of rose the same hue of the blooms on the _naynabo_ tree, but did not match their intensity. He waited thoughtfully until some minutes passed before pulling the handy pillow from beneath Obi-Wan and tossing it to a far corner. _Impressive again, Master, and this time without the Force._

The mating pheromones sizzled so thick that even the flitterbugs noticed. "Let's go," signaled one chemically. "Same way we came in." They batted a final time against the hypnotic glowglobe, then broke free of its allure and departed through a slit in the shutters. Even they recognized a need for privacy when they sensed it.

The river sputtered.

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	36. Chapter 36

Part Thirty-Six

Anakin lost his momentum when Obi-Wan came. It no longer mattered if he lasted or not; suddenly it mattered very much what Obi-Wan thought of him and he wanted to talk. He ached deeply, though, and some of that came through the Master/Padawan bond. Obi-Wan's breathing returned to normal. He sat trembling by Anakin's side, back pushed up against the headboard until Anakin put his arm around his shoulders to ease the strain. "Mmmuhh," Obi-Wan said. "Help you, wanna ... " He gestured in the general direction of Anakin's groin, where absolutely nothing was happening.

"I'm all right, Master."

"So'm I. More'n all right. Wanna --- Want to do something f'r you ... be fair to you ... "

"Later. I want to talk now."

_**Now** he opens up. Something about the matters he's shielding?_ Obi-Wan wasn't ready for a long conversation. He'd negotiate out of one. "Anakin, shhhometimesh we talk too much, don't mean 'we' as in you and I, I mean 'we' as, as, in Jedi. Qui-Gon used t' say 'Live in the moment' and at this moment we need to resht." He tried to frown in a Masterly way, but couldn't. The frowny muscles were too relaxed.

Anakin attempted to recall the precise things that Qui-Gon had said. He remembered more the Force-presence of strength and a large quantity of kindness in a shoulder ride for a fatherless boy who had never had one. He demurred. "No, it's important that we talk about things. That's what lovers do." It's what Padmé always liked to do, sometimes to Anakin's dismay and general grumpiness. Talking after sex used up an entire lobe of his brain to keep track of the conversation. _Padmé_. _Oh_. He shunted her image away. "Master, please."

"All right. What we've done can't be ignored, after all. It'll stay out of the Mission Report draft, though, much less the final version."

"Was that humor, Master?"

"You said I'm not good at humor."

"You might be catching it from me."

"I'm not empathetic that way; Master Qui-Gon tried to teach me to love the Living Force, but I only ever managed to like it." Obi-Wan's lassitude was similar to that of one following a moving meditation. Meditation did not cause his heart to hammer, however, or his mind to drift to adventuresome thoughts regarding other acts with Anakin. Something more athletic, perhaps ...

" ... and it seems to me that the reason the Billaqori didn't react more to the vid is because ... Master, are you listening?"

" ... is because they are closer to the Living Force than we --- than _I_ --- am and see such things more fatalistically; they need more solid reasons to join the Republic's cause than we gave them before, not emotional appeals. They are, ah, pragmatic about disgus-- putr--- visceral subjects. I'll come up with something tomorrow morning, Padawan. We've got a good start here, but I literally cannot see straight."

Anakin heaved a sigh. "That's talking about the mission, all well and good. Now I want to talk about us."

"As long as I can get horizontal."

Anakin startled Obi-Wan by standing and pulling Obi-Wan shakily up along with him. "What -- "

"I'm sleeping with you tonight. I don't want to crowd either of us. Let's do this." Anakin yanked off the double's mattress and the single's, pushed them together on the floor, and spread the bedding haphazardly on top. "There. I'm too tall for either of these two beds. At least now my feet won't lop off into thin air." He lay beside Obi-Wan, who had curled into a fetal ball, breathing deeply.

"Go on, Padawan. I'll last a little longer."

"We're closer. Just like I wanted us to be. I like that. Do you?"

"Yes. Next question."

Anakin wanted to ruffle Obi-Wan's bristles, but compromised by rolling onto his side and caressing Obi-Wan's uppermost arm. He poked the arm after a time. "Master. Don't fall asleep yet."

"'M not."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Obi-Wan qualified it in his head, as was his way. _I love you for your grace, your gifts in the Force, your dedication to the Republic, your laugh ... _He fell asleep, but not before thinking that his Padawan was not ready to hear those reasons yet.

The river hushed.

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	37. Chapter 37

Part Thirty-Seven

_Squawk! Sq-sq-squawk! Screech! Rustle, flutter, flutter, ruffle, screech-SQUAWK!_

"Housekeeping!" Knock-KnockKNOCK! --- blessed silence --- KNOCK-_KNOCK-**KNOCK!**_

An obnoxious flock of psittacines seemed to have perched on the eaves outside their still-shuttered window this morning of their seventh day on Trow, and an equally obnoxious staffer from the inn commanded attention from the hallway. Obi-Wan checked his internal time sense ---_ late_ --- but the Chosen One remained asleep, so Obi-Wan padded to the door and stage-whispered, "Come back later, _please_!"

"But I'll lose me position, sir! It's ever so late and I have to serve downstairs in the diner what with the extra people in town, we're full up here in Nepsa, you know, and you're me last duty on this floor, have a heart, sir?" Yes, this girl could whine with the best of them. Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder at Anakin, who was getting to his feet, scratching idly. Anakin waved an 'all right' sign and headed into the 'fresher.

Obi-Wan said to the girl, "Hold on, hold on," wrapped a sheet about himself and opened the door. It was the server from their first night in Trow, the dippy one with the vacuous smile at Ry-Gaul's generous tip. She had another smile from the same vintage on her pleasant face. Obi-Wan replaced his own answering smile with a noncommittal straight face as he inquired, "Breakfast room service still available?"

"Of course, sir, anytime." She set down her replacement pile of bedding, towels, and toiletries on the single chair, took in the mattresses on the floor without expression and gathered up the soiled sheets and pillows. She cast about the room, then dived for the pillow in the corner, tossing it on top of the growing pile. "Shall you be requiring extra hand lotion, sir? No further charge."

Obi-Wan was in time to prevent a blush, using a Jedi technique to lessen heat exhaustion. "Not necessary, thank you."

Anakin emerged from the 'fresher with a clean hand towel draped in front and she entered with the replacement necessities, straightening up rapidly. She left the door open as she scrubbed with their used towels from yesterday morning, wiping down the small mirror, shower stall, and finally 'fresher seat. She replaced soaps and shower caps, and Obi-Wan, glancing up from where he sat next to Anakin on the mattresses, saw her grin saucily in his direction. She had an extra container of lotion ready in her hand, then spotted the pot of sunburn cream on the counter. She palmed the lotion economically. "I'll be right back with what we have left over from breakfast, plus fresh pillows. Shan't be a minute." She rolled everything dirty up, knotted it into an efficient bundle, and secured it with one hand on top of her head.

"Another day, another credit," Anakin said when Obi-Wan had been quiet for too long. Obi-Wan had been thinking about their shared past and about how, when he saw Anakin come out of the 'fresher just then in that skimpy towel, he would never again see his Padawan in an innocent light. It took some adjusting to the small stab of pain this caused. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was content to simply use the word 'love' and have that cure whatever deeper issues arose. Analysis about glowglobes and force pikes was one thing, analysis about life-changing events was something else. He envied Anakin's mostly sunny nature for a moment, allowed the envy to burn off in the warming mid-morning sun, then answered the door with relief. It was their meal. Obi-Wan turned off his musings the same way he would turn off a tap and opened another discussion about their mission.

"I'll ask for a private session today, just the Cabinet and Strenghis. If it's granted, you and I will find out more about Murt and his 'vacation,' I think, and I know we'll discuss Strenghis' conscription plan. He won't be able to resist expounding on that. Maybe the force pike and glowrod question will be answered further, and I'd like to know where the Separatist contingent is hiding. Questions, comments?" Obi-Wan waved a Para-roll dripping with berry sauce in Anakin's direction.

"Yes. I want to know how you feel this morning, Master."

"Excellent, thanks. And you?"

"Embarrassed. The maid knew everything, I had only that tiny towel between her and me, and now I have to rush around gobbling food and hoping no one gets offended by my grimy self in its musty uniform. Plus I sense that you are regretting something. Please say that last night, all of it, won't give you second thoughts." Anakin didn't touch Obi-Wan. He knew from the 'fresher mirror that his hickey had turned to an ugly green, although his heart felt complete now. He reflected that Obi-Wan's complexity would most likely make him over-think and analyze what should be simple truths. Anakin wanted to finish this mission in the way that the Force had provided. This morning in the 'fresher he had pondered the way that the dream-purpose seemed outside the Force and how that was possible. He came to another epiphany, that the Force meant Jedi to take a break from its contemplation now and then, all the more to return to their studies refreshed. It was meant that he and Obi-Wan teach this to their Order, all in good time. He stopped there. He could leave the details of instruction up to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was good at that. Meanwhile, there was an unsettled Master to deal with. Anakin felt more capable than ever at dealing. Why, in the 'fresher this morning, he felt capable of overcoming his bladder problem completely. All in good time, however.

"No second thoughts about us, my Padawan. It's going to need a period of adjustment, that's all. I'm your teacher and now your l-lover, lover, that is, and it's strange, but not insurmountable." Obi-Wan licked up the last of the berry sauce from his pinky. "I feel dirty also, and we have just an hour before our session starts, not enough time to finish eating and go back to that laundry service I used yesterday. Why not shower together with our uniforms on, Force-enhanced jog for twenty minutes to dry them in this heat, and report directly to Congress? We ought to wind up decently clean that way. I'll stop us before we get too sweaty."

_He's more chipper now._ "Done." _No time for anything else. I'll survive, though._

The river cleansed.

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	38. Chapter 38

Part Thirty-Eight

_I release myself from your authority, my Master, temporarily and for your greater good. I'm my own man now, for a little while longer at least,_ Anakin thought,_ and men think for themselves. _Anakin and Obi-Wan jogged side-by-side along the rutted road that ran mostly straight along Gitchy, relieved that the rare and expensive cobblestones extended to the docks and no further. The river flowed, its noise a constant low hissing with an occasional _slap!_ of a fish reentering the water after leaping for a flitterbug. There were no others on the thoroughfare, due probably to the lateness of the hour ---_ I made Obi-Wan oversleep this morning ---_ so Anakin had the hunch that, in summer, Billaqori did most of their strenuous activities, such as travel, once the sun first made its appearance and finished their efforts early in the day. The Festival of Plenitude pilgrimages would be the exception. He turned away from Festival memories and concentrated on finding new approaches to persuading Strenghis to join their cause. Strenghis had the look of a no-nonsense type, someone who would not allow his sympathy for the Gungans' plight to turn into empathy. The vid, gruesome though it was, may indeed have been seen as manipulative and pushed him further into isolationism. He might reject any overtures now from either side. His elected position as protector of Trow was the primary thing in his life, Anakin decided, just as Qikal's devotion to the Mother was the foremost motivator in _his_ life and devotion to the Force was the first thing Jedi thought of every morning. Now, as to benefits of the Republic's side ... clones. Yes, re-emphasize the ever-renewing clone armies, coming as they did from one father, but _no mother_ ... no. Um. Spices? He could see the incomprehension on Strenghis' face, the sheer inability to find those food enhancers attractive. No. Improved opportunities for travel? Fewer than one per cent of Trow's population had traveled offplanet, he recalled from Mace's briefing. They didn't seem adventurous beyond their own world. Anakin wondered why they even wanted an improved spaceport facility. Anakin looked at the good rich riparian soil beneath his bounding feet. That, along with Gitchy and other rivers like her, provided for physical needs, the Mother provided for spiritual ones, and if it hadn't been for Grunbi's exposure of urban stagnation, Anakin could see no foothold to argue for change. It wasn't until they reached the end of the road at Kuki's friends' farm and turned to head back that an idea was born.

Obi-Wan effortlessly matched his shorter stride to Anakin's. For some reason, his mind felt clearer about their mission than ever and he was filled with enthusiasm for it. Yesterday's blunder was merely a misstep, a first impression upon Strenghis and his Congress that Obi-Wan could change with today's session. No more appealing to emotions. Strictly business. Defense and protection of Trow's sovereignty, these points were key. Looming over these issues was the appeal of the CIS, not lost on Obi-Wan, whose observations of the Republic Senate procedures through the years made him, too, think of ways to overcome government by committee. Derailing the CIS's appeal, pushing the Republic's appeal ... hmmm. A moving meditation seemed in order. Obi-Wan glanced at Gitchy, noted her rate of flow and their own speed and used those factors to regulate his internal time sense, setting it to arrive at the Villa with enough time for their breathing to return to normal. He pounded the trail, simply running, freeing his brain to _be_ rather than _do._ An idea arose in his consciousness as he and Anakin did a joyous simultaneous flip with a twist at the halfway mark of their jog, reversing their direction neatly. He flashed a grin silently at his Padawan, seeing the same grin on Anakin's face.

After relaying his request to President Strenghis via a page, Obi-Wan waited with Anakin in the same courtyard as yesterday, standing next to the magnificent_ naynabo_ tree whose blossoms now were undifferentiated. Fifty Congressmembers lounged about near the Villa's entrance, nibbling on pastries, drinking juice or an urban watery version of Kopi tea that Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't much care for. Some politicians smiled, a few bowed, but most eyed them curiously and then went back to chewing or conversing quietly. _Trow is as far away culturally from Coruscant as it is physically._ Obi-Wan knew that at this point at a power breakfast on Coruscant, he and Anakin would have been gladhanded by beings smiling falsely and brightly, clapped on their backs, or clandestinely offered ryll as a bribe. Here on Trow, plain goodwill radiated from the group in the Force, a strong-minded independence combined with service to their world. He bowed in their general direction as did Anakin.

There was one clear ringing _ping! _of a handheld bell. "This way, Master Jedi." A different page who was Anakin's agemate stilled the bell's reverberations against her chest as she led the two into the Presidential Villa proper. The promenade circling the seating area had a passage heading off at right angles through an arched doorway that led to a hall with no doors except one at the far end. They clattered in their boots on the hardwood floor while the page walked silently in her sandals towards the door. Obi-Wan felt the need to brief Anakin on the new approach so that it wouldn't be a complete surprise. Perhaps, too, Anakin would bring insights to the new tack of the argument. His Padawan was maturing into a true partner. It wouldn't be long before the braid that he had used as a handle occasionally in irritation would lie in his palm as he looked deep into Anakin's eyes after he severed it. This morning as Anakin sat between his outstretched legs, he had finger-combed it three times before placing each bead in its proper strand and retying the strings. He finished with a kiss to the spiky tail end, making sure that Anakin didn't notice the sentimentality. There wasn't time to do anything else. _I'll survive, though._ The page motioned to them to have a seat before she opened the door with an etched key and left them to wait.

"The Billaqori have some security, Master," Anakin said as he settled on the richly carved bench and indicated the locked door. "They aren't as naive as we might think. I sense a strong will for self-preservation and a stout ability for battle."

"If they have weapons, that is, and if they do have weapons, they will be tempted to use them, and you know as well as I do how long they will last in pitched battle with droids."

The river mourned.

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	39. Chapter 39

Part Thirty-Nine

Anakin thought of Kuki, Dormin, and the rest, Qikal limping into battle to lead them in guerilla warfare against droids, trying to hide behind _naynabo_ trees that the droids would incinerate ... "Not long," he said solemnly.

"I have an idea, a new approach. The emotional appeal of the Ohma D'un atrocities vid was vitiated by the fact that they as a people are inured to seeing butchering, dismembering, disem--- "

"Please, Master, don't ... " Anakin twitched his tunic higher on his neck to hide the discoloration there.

"--- I'm sorry, I must continue, terrible things such as those mentioned. I am reluctant to say it, but their lack of interspecies contact may have led them to consider the Gungans as less sentient and therefore more difficult to relate to than humans or humanoids."_ And am I ever going to have a private debriefing with Mace about suggesting that tactic with a provincial populace like Trow's._

"Racism."

Obi-Wan rubbed his sunburn. It was tolerable today. "Isolationism."

"We've seen it before, Master, even on Naboo. It was under the surface, but it was there. Queen Amidala broke through old prejudices when she knelt in the forest that day to ask for the Gungans' aid." _My wonderful Padmé. When I see you again, will you hate me?_

"Before the page comes for us, Padawan, you need to know that I shall mention the army but briefly and move on to my main point: Count Dooku."

Anakin snugged his glove, fingering its clasps. "So you've decided to sell personalities to Strenghis. I came to the same conclusion today, but it's the Supreme Chancellor's character which should be emphasized. His integrity and personal sacrifices for the Republic are positive. Dooku's abandonment of Jedi principles and alignment with that Grievous _thing_ are negative. I'm surprised at you, Master."

Obi-Wan pursued his logic. "Anakin, Dooku's betrayal of our Order's training will resonate with a leader who yearns to train his own conscripted forces. As Trow's President is one leader expected to kowtow to another, Dooku will not appeal to Strenghis. And while I, I, respect our Supreme Chancellor's integrity" ---_ but not so much since Geonosis --_- "what exactly has he sacrificed?" Anakin's closeness to Palpatine grated on Obi-Wan at times, although he tolerated it. Anakin always seemed more self-confident when he returned from their meetings. Obi-Wan shared Anakin's mentoring with Master Yoda, Master Drallig, and Anakin's other teachers. He only had to stretch a little to include a commoner, no, a non-Force sensitive, he corrected himself, like Palpatine.

"He lives simply, he has no family, he exists and _breathes_ for the Republic, Master. And he is a good friend, a, a, good example of loyalty." _**I** am the closest thing he has to a family. _They had discussed Palpatine before; it had never gotten rancorous. Anakin didn't want to have to balance one relationship against the other.

_**You** are a good example of loyalty, young one. But I will prevail here. I must. I refuse to allow our new status to change our standards._ "I'm sorry, Anakin. I will negotiate as explained. The Republic needs that base and Trow needs protection. You're still learning, my dar--Padawan; it's all right, no one expects you to put a thirty-six year-old head on twenty year-old shoulders."

"Yes, Master." It was the tone that belied the words. Obi-Wan heard low voices from within the chamber. Surely Strenghis was not malicious, but that didn't amount to much in the galaxy's scheme of things. Innocent intentions could get this planet blown apart as much as if a planet-destroying blaster has blown it into oblivion, if such a weapon were possible. A new beginning to this mission, that's what he and Anakin needed. All the aberrent events placed into context, into safe history where they could be examined when mellow evenings allowed time for reflection, safe at home in Temple's hush. Safe at home. Obi-Wan didn't feel reflective when he and Anakin crowded together in a snap-up regulation tent.

_Time to get this show on the road._ "Padawan, before we must go in, there's time to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority." _And then things will approach normal. The way that they should be. _

"No, Master, I will not."

"What?" Now? He pulled this _now?_ The crux of their mission was now. The Billaqori's impression of the justice of the Republic's cause superseded any power struggle between Padawan and Master, between adult and --- near-adult. "We'll discuss this later. After you've said the Respect-for-Master's-Authority, long version, short version, I don't care." The Respect-for-Master's-Authority, like its release, had been crafted for both formal and urgent situations. Since they were in no dire circumstances, Obi-Wan wouldn't have minded hearing Anakin verbalize the longer, formal version. It would have soothed his ruminations on their future.

"No, Master. For your greater good, I refuse." Serenely.

"My greater good doesn't apply here, but if you want to put it in those terms, my greater good would be best served by completing this mission successfully. _Say it, Padawan, **now**._"

Anakin pleaded, his dignity undiminished. "Master, hear me out." He didn't say 'please.' "After last night, I had an epiphany."

_Kriff. He's had **another** epiphany._ "Anakin, I don't want to hear it until we are back at Temple, inside our own quarters, which you will be seeing a great deal more of in the near future, I assure you. If you _choose_ not to comply, given all that we've gone through to reach this point, I will refrain from disciplining you until after the Council's debriefing. I recognize that this mission, especially the detour that neither of us wanted --- "

_--- but I dreamed of wanting it, Master, or something like it ---_

" --- has been trying for us. For both of us. We'll need to see the soul Healers, we'll need to --- "

"I don't want to see the soul Healers."

"Not even for the Tusken incident?" _I like the new direction in our relationship, but we have some issues to iron out._

Anakin faltered. "Yes. I do. For that, of course I do." He firmed his jaw. "But not for the detour. And not for last night, and all the other nights that we will share. And not for refusing your authority now, because **_I know better than you._** The Force sent a dream to show me that we are together as equals, or something will happen ... s-s-something ... We're meant to be together. All the time." Padmé could cope, he had confidence in her. She knew all about compromising. It was in her job description.

The door opened.

The river simmered.

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	40. Chapter 40

Part Forty

Anakin deferred to Obi-Wan when it came to receiving the Presidential embrace. He stepped back to his Padawan's place, one long step behind, one to the left, and allowed Strenghis to squeeze his Master until he heard a vertebra pop. Obi-Wan returned the greeting briefly in the same vein. This time it did not turn into a show of strength. The two sat as old comrades of the loyal opposition might, side by side on a bench up against the wall, foregoing the usual desk-between-potentate-and-visitor dominance game. Anakin stood to one side in what a clone would call 'parade rest.' He held his peace as the parley began.

Strenghis' voice was an octave below Obi-Wan's. "Good idea to meet privately. I tire of a large audience myself, and for this complex issue especially." The Cabinet stood arranged to his left near the largest window in the modest chamber as he leaned in close to the Jedi, and Obi-Wan wondered if they doubled as bodyguards. They had no visible weapons. "No doubt you have more evidence against the Separatists, Master Jedi."

"Actually, Mr. President, I have evidence against _you_." Bold might work here.

Strenghis huffed. "You're serious." The Cabinet/bodyguard closed ranks. The woman with the flower-festooned raffia belt touched it as if to cinch it tighter around her lavalava. She looked particularly wary.

"I am, Mr. President. But I've mostly presented my side. I want to hear more about your cunning plan to defend your world. Sources say that you are drafting a planetary service corps. For what purpose, if not defense?"

Now that he could spend more time with the President, Obi-Wan saw the strain on the man's face, covered by a blunt professional manner. There was caring on that face, though, when he stated, "I love Trow, Master Jedi, as much as Murt did. In today's galaxy, Trow needs to change, at least Nepsa does; a trained force in these troubled times is reasonable. Did your source say anything about the demonstrators who are pushing for the Republic taking over our defense?"

Obi-Wan was put in a delicate place. He _wanted_ the Republic to be the victor in this battle of wills. "We saw them on our briefing vid, but haven't seen any demonstrations, no. We arrived just day before yesterday."

"I thought Jedi would give us the respect of spending some time here observing instead of hastily presenting their arguments. The demonstrators' last public gathering was only three days ago." Strenghis' voice remained level.

Obi-Wan hedged. "We had mechanical difficulties, crashed into Gitchy, survived long enough for an Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy search party to rescue us."

"What day was this?"

Obi-Wan hoped this news would reflect in their favor. "Festival of Plenitude."

Strenghis folded his hands. "Dear Qikal must have been hard put to be generous with his resources when you refused to join in. His faith is even stronger since he became crippled. It's made my old friend hard-headed." Now Strenghis resembled the face in the poster, powerful, no-nonsense, someone who would push to win at dejarik every time and who would go all out to do so. But honestly.

Obi-Wan met his gaze. Anakin found the view out the window fascinating. "We did not refuse." On the word 'not,' Obi-Wan's voice squeaked. He had neglected his vocal exercises in this morning's rush.

There was a world of doubt in the President's eyes. "You ... that's not what _our_ sources say about the Jedi. They left this before being called three days ago to some rainy planet." Strenghis fished in the carrying fold of his monochrome lavalava's waistband and pulled out a flimsi covered in Trow's unreadable script. "'Ascetic ... removed from ordinary desires ... incomprehensibly humorless ... ' That is what _my_ briefing said."

"Let me see that. Please." Obi-Wan couldn't read the closely-spaced script, but he recognized the flimsi stock as of Sienar Intelligence Systems origin; their hardcopy communiques contained water-proofing elements, anti-crumpling reinforcement, and should discovery be imminent were entirely edible. He returned it, deciding to reiterate the clones' fighting ability, but Strenghis would not let the subject lie.

"Master Jedi, may the Mother grant a plenitude of offspring from your joining in the Festival. Of course, you and your strapping apprentice may visit the young ones anytime." An actual smile graced the President, a small relief from a leader's burdens. He placed a fraternal hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Anakin made a choked sound, while Obi-Wan couldn't prevent a blush, Jedi techniques or no. "Mr. President, the speaking drums will give full details should you wish to contact Upper-Gitchy-on-Cremba, but let us move along to exactly where the base may be placed and how you will contact our combat-hardened troops for support." _Get off this topic, **please.**_

_Change the subject, change the subject._ Anakin perceived a bored frisson emanating from Strenghis in the Force and broke in on the conversation. "Master, before discussing those" --- _nitpicky_ --- "details, shouldn't you inform Mr. President how and to whom he will surrender his planet's rule?" Anakin gave in to Obi-Wan's choice of attack, but wanted a toehold in the debate. A wave of disapproval washed over his head through their bond. The gritting of teeth would come next.

"Thank you, Padawan. Mr. President, you mentioned yesterday that Dooku is a fallen Jedi. This is true. He disgraced himself, not when he left our Order, for we do not demand slavery to us, but when he betrayed his former comrades by fashioning a trap on Geonosis to lure Jedi forces there for slaughter from overwhelming forces, when he allowed a death-by-beast-rending to begin as entertainment, _our_ deaths, Mr. President, mine and my Padawan's, and when he mutilated a boy. Anakin, remove your glove, please." _Will this personalizing work? Can I change my negotiating style?_

Well, he _had_ wanted to be more involved than ever in negotiations, Anakin thought as he undid the clasps and pulled the glove off by its fingers. He stood stoically as Cabinetmembers and President alike hissed in sympathy. Anakin was closer to their likeness, not alien-appearing at all, and that fact made a difference in their ability to commiserate with his previous agony. Anakin kept secret from them and from Obi-Wan, too, that he experienced phantom pain from the vanished limb inside his head at times. He had felt like a boy when Dooku had committed mayhem upon his body and so did not rankle at the term.

"Mr. President, Cabinetmembers, you will pledge allegiance to Count Dooku, a disgraced Jedi, a Sith Lord. It may not mean much to you. The Sith's evil resurfaced some years ago from a distant past. I have killed one Sith Lord. The way of the Sith is treachery. I submit that the Republic will suit you better as an ally." Forget the pikes, forget Murt's silencing. There hadn't been a murder, after all.

The river compromised.

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	41. Chapter 41

Part Forty-One

Anakin slicked his glove back on, grateful not to be the center of attention any more. He had made his mark on the conference and needed time to gather his thoughts while listening to his Master's improved skills. It must have been the Force's doing; the man had taken Master Lingus' training in_ How To Lay It On Thick_ and developed it into _How To Lay It On With A Trowel_, and it was paying off. Anakin, pleased to have helped the Force help his Master change, listened in.

"Well put, Master Jedi. After adjourning, the Cabinet and I will consult with the rest of the Congress, but that's not until this afternoon. For now, let's discuss this 'evidence' against me." They would still be characterized as going at it head to head, Obi-Wan thought, but he still had loads of energy to burn. He began.

"Our source, documented by my Padawan and another Master who left his statement before returning to Coruscant, says that your conscripts will serve for three years without any family contact except speaking drums in case of emergency."

"True. Family ties need to be broken in wartime. I can't have everyone returning home if there is a bad harvest or fishing season. Our government will step in to provide the basics if that occurs. There happens to be a surplus of our good nourishing nutrient paste, enough for five years' needs of half our total population."

_I wouldn't wish that purple sludge on anyone._ "I see you've thought of many immediate things, Mr. President, but have you thought about long-range repercussions? Your civilian population may become dependent on government support, while the servicemembers could become accustomed to a continuing state of hyper-readiness and look about for means of venting that excess energy. A coup is not unheard-of when military personnel have too much time and too many weapons. Vigor without outlet can make tiny slights into outsized injustices. It's happened before." _Back to the Unifying Force, looking ahead, seeing complicating factors ... my specialty. Better._

Strenghis paused for some time. Obi-Wan observed that the Cabinetmembers appeared watchful, absorbing their President's words more than his own. Was Strenghis revealing more in this meeting than he had told anyone close to him? "It's not likely, though naturally you have seen more than I in your many travels. The plan for after the emergency will be implemented in full in three years. That should contain any unrest, provide employment for our urban population, especially. The rurals will want to return to their roots. Qikal in particular will see to that."

Anakin pounced on Qikal's name. _Isn't he simply an old friend of Strenghis'? He's not even high up enough to be a Congressmember, much less a Cabinetmember. What's going on?_ His Master would catch this, but if he didn't, Anakin was ready.

Obi-Wan was caught flat-footed. "Erm, Qikal? He's part of your plan? Our source did not mention him."_ Smooth response, Negotiator. _

Strenghis had the look of finding someone who finally, finally, would understand him. He clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's knee, the same one that Anakin had stimulated last night. Obi-Wan shook off the memory and almost shook off the offending hand. "Master Jedi, your source fears change. I do not. I am not infallible, but the Mother is. I do Her will. Trokas Qikal helps me to see it." Strenghis' voice tightened. "Together we will keep Trow out of this unwinnable war." So pure, in a way. Purely blind. _Meh._

"After the wartime emergency, your plan ... uh ... "

"Master, the plan looks to be turning Trow into a theocracy eventually, isn't that right, Mr. President?" Anakin, raised as he was on Tatooine's secular soil, had no love for theocracies, although he realized that some managed to work within the Republic. He'd indicated his distaste for any mission to those worlds to Obi-Wan once or twice._ I'm looking ahead! Hello, Unifying Force!_

Strenghis placed both his hands in his lap, folding them serenely. "I believe faith and worldly rule not to be incompatible, yes. Trokas and I want the best for Trow. He is more dogmatic than I, however; I will be a check for him."

Obi-Wan put the whole picture together. "Your defensive service will use weapons that the Separatists supplied one year ago against any incursions on your sovereignty, from Republic bases to extra-Galactic invaders to Separatists' landing ships on your spaceport. And be in place after this war ends as, as ... "_ Bold as bronzium._

Strenghis beamed. "As a trained defense deterrent to further involvement in offworld politics, for one, and if that isn't needed, then maybe as a natural disaster response team, or extra help at harvest, wherever they're needed. I have plans."

Obi-Wan almost heard the door slam shut in Strenghis' mind to granting the Republic's presence on Trow, but still he persevered. _You rule secularly and Qikal, uh, 'heeds the Mother's will.' So this accounts for the tinge of deceit._ "Mr. President, our concerns are for the present alliance Trow will make, and your post-war schemes really don't come into play --- "

Raffia Belt broke in. "Mr. President, we request a stay in this meeting. We wish to question the Jedi at this point." She fiddled with her belt even more, and Anakin hoped that it would stay fastened. Raffia Belt and the other two Cabinetmembers stared Strenghis down by force of numbers. To his credit, he nodded graciously and stood by the window, withdrawing into silent observation.

The river swirled.

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	42. Chapter 42

Part Forty-Two

"Please sit, Master Padawan. You've been standing a good while." Raffia Belt hadn't gotten the titles or names right, but Anakin thought it inconsequential. He smiled a 'thanks' and settled beside Obi-Wan in Strenghis' spot. It was still warm.

Raffia Belt and Other Cabinetmember paced in front of the bench, showing more agitation than Obi-Wan had seen in a citizen of Trow before. Third Cabinetmember crossed her arms and waited in the background. Other Cabinetmember blew out his cheeks. "Jedi, getting back to the Festival" --- _let's not go back there, let's not, let's not ---_ "you two, whom we have seen make flowers spring into bloom, joined in without duress?" Obi-Wan wanted Strenghis back.

Anakin couldn't speak. Obi-Wan's boots had gotten scuffed from their Force-enhanced jog, and he looked at them, counting their scratches instead. Sending reassurance touched with dominance through their bond, Obi-Wan answered. "It is not Jedi practice to antagonize unnecessarily any people that we visit, and the Festival's theme was innocent, Madam. If it were duress, we would tell you." Obi-Wan saw Qikal's thumb trace the force pike's barrel once more. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Raffia Belt took things up. "We know about your warrior leanings. Are you telling us you had no thought of refusing to honor the Mother, no inclination to slice your way out of your troubles and steal a raft to come to Nepsa?"

Her violent words spun into a possible sequence of events in Anakin's head: back to back battling through pitiful opposition towards Kuki's raft, slapping Kuki down with a Force-thrust, who knows, maybe even Dormin's mother would have gotten combative, push her down into Gitchy to quiet her screeches, and Dormin, too, if he'd tried to defend her. Anakin laughed at his overly dramatic scenario. "_No_. That would not have happened, Madam. That's not what Jedi are about. We are keepers of the peace." He turned his mildest gaze upon all four politicians. "You're imagining things."

"Erm, what my Padawan_-learner_, whose name is Anakin Skywalker, means to say, is: how would those actions have advanced the cause of Peace?" Obi-Wan capitalized the word in his head and voice. "And, logically speaking, wouldn't your speaking drums have alerted everyone to our nefarious doings and made Lower-Cremba-on-Gitchy come after us with all force pikes blazing?"

Other Cabinetmember and Raffia Belt conferred in low voices. "You restrained yourselves for our benefit? Even though you could have kept true to your, ah, 'ascetic' natures?" Other Cabinetmember looked askance at Raffia Belt, twisting to take in Third Cabinetmember behind him and Strenghis over by the window.

_'Ascetic.' As good a name for our natures as any._ "Yes," Obi-Wan and Anakin chorused. At that point in time, they were closer than ever before. The Force noticed.

Strenghis couldn't let this pass. He added excitedly, "And to think that their offspring will be born next spring! What will this do for our people! Consider the future, my colleagues! Their brief visit may have altered Trow's destiny forever --- it may be the Mother's will, I don't know, I will ask Trokas on this --- "

If he could have gotten away with staying mum, he would have, but Obi-Wan had had enough. "Mr. President, there will be no offspring."

The four hushed. "How do you know?" Raffia Belt blurted. "Are you precognitive, too?" Their regard approached awe.

"No, what my Master means is that he and I are lovers." Anakin found his voice, even though it might doom this mission. He thought of what the Unifying Force would guide him to say, and said it. "As in, we mated with no females, charming though yours are, on Festival Night. It was all right with Qikal, so it should be all right with you." He placed a loving arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and tilted his head against his.

Prior to the traumatizing events on Haruun Kal involving his fellow Councilmember and dear former Padawan, Depa Billaba, Mace Windu had invited Obi-Wan to accompany him to a high-end pet shop one day. Mace had wanted to show Obi-Wan the nearest thing to an akk-dog on Coruscant. The kind called _ebabs_ came closest in Force-bonding ability, though they were mellower in temperament. The golden-scaled _ebabs_ were thigh-high to a human, smaller than the smallest breed of akk-dog by at least a meter at the shoulder, but Mace envisioned them bigger when he patted one and asked for a demonstration of its abilities. The _ebab_ looked to neither right nor left when herding some chittering Alderaani _libregs_, deliberately let loose by the indulgent shopowner to cultivate two Jedi. The four _libregs_ scurried troublesomely under an aquarium table, huddling in a quivering ball. The _ebab_ crawled on its scaly belly closer and closer to them, never breaking eye contact. Obi-Wan remembered when it pounced to gather all four _libregs_ gently in its mouth, ushering them to safety as it dropped them back into their cage and looked fawningly up at the beaming shop proprietor. Obi-Wan wanted to shepherd Strenghis and his Cabinet as the _ebab_ had the rodentia as he said, "The Force isn't a deity, so there is no conflict with the Mother. The Force is an energy field that binds the galaxy together. The Force is what we access when we do certain --- unusual --- things. We don't use it frivolously and we train for years to learn its ways." There was more, but not to say. There was more to feel, think, sense ... they wouldn't understand without knowing the Force. Obi-Wan tilted his head likewise against Anakin's. "The last thing I have to say today is to remind you that the Force makes blooms, Dooku and his Separatists make Gungans dissolve. We'll be going now. We're staying at the inn nearest the docks, the one with the double doors. Think as deep as Gitchy on this, good people."

The river pondered.

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	43. Chapter 43

Part Forty-Three

Anakin blamed himself for their blisters. He had forgotten to grab those mismatched socks from the Lost and Found bin in the Jedi cruiser, what with Ry-Gaul's rush to return home to Coruscant, and Billaqori wore none. This morning's jog left sore spots on top of sore spots. Once inside their room, he eased off the boots, wiggled his toes, and saw chafing on both his ankles and his little toes. They had time now to heal personal aches and pains. They sat on the pile of bedding with each other's feet in their laps, ghosting touches over the red skin. Some fifteen minutes later new pink skin replaced watery blisters. They looked at each other and smiled wearily. "I've an idea. Let's put on some of your sunburn cream on our feet and order in. What say?" Anakin didn't wait for an answer and was halfway to the 'fresher before Obi-Wan agreed.

"All right, if we talk afterwards."

_I expected this._ "Yes, Master." Anakin tossed the cream at Obi-Wan and scooted for the kitchen. He ordered more fish stew. It was the best they had. Coming back up the stairs, he saw the same overworked server/maid dusting industriously. He grinned cheekily at her, embarrassed no longer. Speaking the word 'lover' out loud to Strenghis and his colleagues emboldened him somehow. She blew an errant strand of pitch black hair out of her face and grinned back. Apparently she was a fast worker, because it was she who knocked on their door some minutes later with their lunches. She placed the tray on the floor next to them, nodding a greeting. They continued massaging big toes and nodded pleasantly in return.

_Negotiating is exhausting. How does Master do it? _Anakin blew out a breath. "Lunch?"

"Room service is wonderful, Padawan. The Temple should have it all the time, not just when we're ill." They ate quietly.

"So." Anakin was wary.

"So."

"So what do you think our babies would have looked like?" Anakin had never considered children, not even in dreams. Oddly enough, he and Padme hadn't discussed the issue; he wondered why now. He pictured their boy or girl around fifteen years old, with a rambunctious nature and curly hair a shade somewhere between his dark blond and Padme's rich brown. He had trouble getting the child to that age. One just appeared without all the nurturing, all the childhood illnesses and awkward questions. At fifteen they would be semi-civilized. He had no difficulty thinking of a half-Jedi, half-Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy baby, a squirmer that waved tiny brown fists at him when he visited. Obi-Wan's would have a worried frown from birth.

Obi-Wan considered all the babies in Master Ali-Anann's nursery that he had ever looked after on Temple assignments. He narrowed his search down to human/humanoid babies, discarded the farther ones from his phenotype, and centered on one, a Chalactan girl. "She has red hair, like mine almost. She doesn't wake up at night anymore, and she wears an adorable baby-sized lavalava, tan with small red blossoms on it. She knows the Force better than I do." This was pure sentimentality; later he would censure himself for it. The Force did not transmit genetically. Searching teams traveled far and wide to bring infants with varying degrees of Force-sensitivity to the Temple after identification by their parents. He cleared his throat. "Back to business. Anakin, you are my Padawan and until I cut your braid, I am your Master. We've got to concentrate on those facts before we discuss these past few days."

_It's like nothing has changed for him._ "Yes, Master."

"It's been tough, this mission, Anakin. I want you to think about that. We've done things, become different people on it. I admit you helped tremendously in negotiating. I am proud of you." That was easier to say than he had thought it would be. He touched Anakin's glove. "You provided more than words for our cause."

"Master, thank you. It's m-m-more than I deserve to hear. I know you disapproved of me speaking out -- "

"I was wrong." That was easy, too.

_What?_ "Not for using Dooku, no, Master, you were right, I was wrong. Strenghis was revolted by Dooku, I could tell, and he's leaning away from any alliance with him. As for whether he agrees to our base, I can't see, but at least your example proved correct."

Obi-Wan said, "Well, as to that, I don't see them reaching an agreement before tomorrow morning. Let's roam around some. I'd like to see the spaceport." They pulled on boots. "And maybe we can order some sandals to fit us. The man at the pharmacy said most pairs can be done overnight and we could have the fittings done today and pick them up early."

"Fine with me."

The river hobbled.

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	44. Chapter 44

Part Forty-Four

The cobbler grumbled something about "huge feet, will take extra sole weaving to get _that_ big galoot's finished, and they'd better not come here before breakfast tomorrow, in such a rush," but since it wasn't in Basic, Obi-Wan and Anakin didn't understand. They ordered extra-soft linings on both pairs, earning a muttered "Tenderfeet!" in Basic this time, paid him with nearly the last of Ry-Gaul's change and left. They were thankful that Ry-Gaul had paid the inn's bill for a full week day before yesterday. For good or bad, right or wrong, this mission hung on a cusp and for right now, neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin could further it. So they went sightseeing. The road out to the spaceport offered no sidewalks, so they had to dodge an aloas-cart or two. It was much easier than trying to dodge a speeder. Trow's technology seemed spotty: a spaceport, but no speeders; no sidewalks, a few half-timbered two-story buildings, but the two-story ones did have strings of glowglobes strung between them so traversing the cobblestoned streets at night shouldn't be hazardous, yet the Nepsans didn't go out much at night. Anakin supposed Trow's level on a good day approached Anchorhead's. _Living on Coruscant has spoiled me._

The spaceport was as plain as any Obi-Wan had seen. There were no food stands there, no souvenir kiosks or even arrival/departure displays. One old man and his teen helper greeted them. "You missed the last outbound flight, gentlemen. Next one won't be until day after tomorrow, first light, local. Next inbound flight won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon this time, if you're looking to pick up freight or meet somebody." The old man glanced at the only chronometer the Jedi had seen on this planet. "We're closing in ten minutes, but if you'd like to make a reservation ... "

"No, thanks. What can you tell me about the Kappa-class shuttle over there?" Obi-Wan saw from here that it was a worn but stately beauty.

The teen rattled off, "She's unmodded, but she's a fully-functional 35-meter long racing aloas with two forward repeating blaster cannons with of course two gunners to man them, and she has two other crew. She can haul 50 metric tons and she can do 850 --- _850!_ --- in atmosphere. Forty troops can fit in her, and do you want to know about the repulsorlift vehicles she's got stowed aboard? I saw them when the other visitors showed old Stren --- uh, Mr. President --- and his Cabinet around before they had to leave right before Festival, they said Mr. President could use it for in-planet travel if he wanted and do you know that he hasn't used it once, even though they left the chip in it, what a waste --- "

The old man said gently, "Too much time on his hands, too many ambitions. Wait a while, my boy. Life will be simpler soon."

Anakin heard ambition in the boy and wished him well. This boy was him if he hadn't met Qui-Gon Jinn. "Master, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Obi-Wan shot him a look. "Later, Padawan. Thank you," he said to the man. "We'll look around your 'port, if you don't mind?"

"Sure thing. We'll be going now. It's almost dark. Want a glowrod? Just leave it wherever you're staying and it'll find its way back here." They were already closing the door to the comm room with its lone console and screen. Their only security seemed to be closing doors firmly with a little shake to make certain that they were closed and a firm faith in the Mother's protection of the facility. Obi-Wan was touched.

"Good night, and no thanks. We're curious where all these ships came from, that's all, and we'll leave when we can't see reg plates anymore. We don't get out much."

After the old man and mechanical-minded helper had left and he and Obi-Wan strode briskly to the shuttle, Anakin remarked, "Master, you're getting better at lying."

"I'm astonished at you, Padawan. You and I _don't_ get out much on Coruscant. We're either at Temple, or the Senate, or at Dex's" --- _or at 500 Republica,_ Anakin thought with a twinge of guilt --- "and there are places that I could show you on lower levels that would curl your hair if it weren't already curly." It was good to see Obi-Wan's smirk.

The shuttle impressed them both. One like it had been at Geonosis, shuttling clones to secondary attack positions, and this particular example must have been stolen or appropriated by the Separatists to use as a bribe to indecisive planetary leaders of a certain unsophistication. Strenghis qualified. Obi-Wan thought the fact that Mr. President hadn't been joyriding in it yet spoke well for their hopes of eventual alliance with Trow. The chip rested temptingly near the control yoke. "I think we've found our way offplanet, Padawan. Even if things don't go our way."

"I can fly this, Master, with a minute's recon." Anakin swiveled the pilot's seat around and plopped himself down. "I don't mean to imply that you couldn't, not that, no, Master, um --- "

"Hush. Do what you do best. I'll stand here and think."

The river connived.

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	45. Chapter 45

Part Forty-Five

"I could have hot-wired it, you know."

"I know. We never had to teach you that at Temple."

"The old spacer pilot taught me how. The one who told me about the angels on Iego's moons."

There were no angels on the moons of Iego. There _were_ some very odd beings living on the moons, but nothing like Anakin envisioned when he said the word 'angel.' Obi-Wan, Yoda and his other teachers never told him that there weren't his imagined angels there, wanting to leave him some comforting beliefs in his transitional period. Years passed. At age sixteen, some snip of a Padawan whom Obi-Wan had never liked teased Anakin about his beliefs. Anakin had investigated, found out his 'angels' were mostly malicious and wholly strange, and was miffed at Obi-Wan for one full week for not telling him sooner.

_"It was a harmless omission, Anakin. You needed comforting. Sleeping with me until you were twelve told me that. Master Yoda agreed to the deception, since he didn't send you to live in Initiates' Hall."_

_"I feel foolish, Master."_

_"Time will lessen that. Time is to blame for many things, but easing mental or physical pain is not one of them. We simply forgot about it as you got older. After all, we're not infallible."_

Anakin knew that. Anakin at sixteen was quite withdrawn, though, and could only scowl and splutter internally. All his friends were tactful about it. Only Tru made mention of the incident. "She's a twit, Anakin. Pay her no mind." Anakin hoped that Tru was on the road to recovery by now as he strolled with Obi-Wan to their inn. The glowglobes overhead attracted as many flitterbugs as possible, as well as a humming species of moth. They encountered only three pedestrians on their way back. Two were a Besalisk couple, rare offplanet visitors toting a large wicker basket as they peered into shop windows. Anakin assumed the basket held the couple's family, about to hatch. On a street like this on Coruscant, ethnic diversity would have been the norm; here on Nepsa, it was the exception. He wondered what growing up here would be like.

"It would make you provincial, Anakin. You would be the wide-eyed moisture farmer in a place like Coruscant."

"Yes, I guess I wo---_did I ask that out loud?"_

"Didn't you?"

"I, I suppose that I did. Huh. Daydreaming. Sorry, Master."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Nerve strain will do that to you." He would have enjoyed a Togorian Terrorizer right now himself, but nothing like that awaited him at their swiftly-approaching inn.

_Yeah, Tru's probably better,_ Anakin consoled himself. Master Ry-Gaul would soon be with him. Masters made Padawans feel better. That was part of their job.

Anakin glanced at his own Master. Under Trow's weak double-moonlight and soft glowglobe's illumination, Obi-Wan's hair resembled the velvety nap in Senator Organa's dress cloak. At least Anakin assumed it was his dress cloak. It was the one that he wore to every Senatorial meeting and social function that Anakin had also attended and it could have been his everyday cloak for all Anakin knew. He wanted to pet the hair, rub it against the grain, do other things with it. _How can I start things up with Master? He's thinking about the mission as he always does. Well, maybe not always anymore._ Last night's activities flooded his mind and his groin. _Down, groin,_ Anakin chastised it.

They heard the commotion before they rounded the last turn. Many more people than staying there circulated outside the inn, an actual crowd. After dark? In Nepsa? Could demonstrators have found them? Even if they were on the Reps side and not the Seps side, it was a complication. Obi-Wan and Anakin slipped through the throng with Jedi efficiency, looking for the pimply-faced clerk/maitre d' to ask about the brouhaha, when they spotted Kuki slumped at a windowside table, looking weary. Together at a central table sat Strenghis, his Cabinet, and Trokas Qikal.

Obi-Wan wondered what had gone wrong.

The river muttered.

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	46. Chapter 46

Part Forty-Six

"Nothing's wrong, Master. It's just the opposite. Or it will be soon," Anakin said blithely. He scanned the crowd, spotting about thirty Congressmembers and their cobbler in the press.

_Did I say that out loud? Or did he guess I was thinking it because he knows me so well? _"Ooookaaayy." Obi-Wan took a moment to get his bearings. "Mr. President, Cabinetmembers." He bowed to Leader Qikal. "We're surprised to see you together. You must have traveled nonstop to make it here so soon." So that's why Kuki is exhausted. Traveling back and forth from Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy to Nepsa three times in as many days used all her reserves of strength. Couldn't drums communicate as well? Probably not. Subtleties would be lost in all the thumping.

Qikal gathered to himself the dignity of his office. "Master Jedi. Young Jedi. My advisor" --- he nodded at Kuki, who managed to nod back --- "and I consulted upon her return. We consider you fellow tribesmen, and once I explained it to her fully, she and I stand in agreement with President Strenghis' plan for neutrality, with some modifications, now and forever. As you two _are_ naturalized citizens of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, however, I am your advocate and will mediate any disagreement between my superior and you. I bring appropriate dress for you both." He indicated two folded stacks of cloth on the table in front of him, formal lavalavas with at least a meter's more length of material than the simple ones of the late Dunri that they had donned in Kuki's home.

Obi-Wan addressed Strenghis only. "You agree to this mediation?" _If it will help this mission, I will wear nothing but nutrient paste._

Strenghis obviously did not believe in closed-door negotiations all the time. "I am agreeable to settling this issue tonight. I've debated with Congress all afternoon and when Qikal arrived a short time ago with this proposal, I told Congress to meet me here when they could. Some have family obligations, you know, but will show up later, I'm sure."

_After they have dinner, make sure the children are down for the night, bed down the aloas with some liana-straw ..._ It was small-town thinking, transferred to small-planet circumstances. Anakin couldn't stand it. "Start this right now?" he asked.

"Yes. I've been mulling the situation over for a year. I'll decide tonight. Trokas has brought the Mother's point of view home to me," Strenghis gravely added, and the crowd stilled reverently at Her name. "Let's begin."

_We're in litigation, sort of, and must dress respectably, but **how** do you tie this thing?_ Obi-Wan peeked out the door of the downstairs 'fresher, and gestured to the pimply-faced desk clerk who doubled as a maitre'-d. He augmented his whisper with the Force to penetrate the din. The youth jerked his head up from directing his staff at the **_"Pssst!"_** and came promptly to the cracked-open door.

"Help us with this?" Obi-Wan clutched the wad of flowered material about his waist, feeling that he was going to appear ridiculous wearing boots underneath it. The utility belt with lightsaber dangling from it would add even more ammunition for jollity. With the crowd growing more excited by the minute at the momentousness of the evening, he and Anakin might even be laughed at. _Not good._

"The belt has to go, gentlemen," said the teen. "I'll help you fold carrying pockets like we all have." With five minutes' worth of dexterous twining and tucking, Anakin and Obi-Wan stood bare to the waist, a calf-length lavalava girdling each of them. The ingenious garment had a front carrying fold as well as a back one. The Jedi put the lightsaber bulge in the back fold to avoid comment.

The door opened as their cobbler poked his head in. "Here," he said gruffly in Basic. "Had 'em all ready for tomorrow morning early, like you asked. Might as well give 'em to you now." He thrust two pairs of sandals at them and shut the door. Their ensembles complete, the Jedi braved the gathering.

"Trokas, let everyone hear what these Jedi have done." Strenghis couldn't have gotten more dour since the last time Obi-Wan had seen him. It only looked that way. The worries that the Mother couldn't soothe and in fact added to showed in his unquiet hands as he rubbed his thinning temples.

Obi-Wan's and Anakin's mutual tidal waves of dismay crashed in the middle of their bond. The backlash made them gasp. Strenghis looked alarmed and gestured that they pull up some chairs and sit informally at his crowded table. They sat elbow-to-elbow as straight as they could on the finely-crafted rattan chairs.

"Mr. President, esteemed Congress, and good citizens all, let me begin by praising their conduct on our sacred Festival Night. Their response to our customs overwhelms me. We had some personal disharmony" --- here he may have sighed in regret, glancing sideways at Anakin --- "and not all was as usual" --- Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair from his upright posture, it was going to be all right, beyond all hope --- "but they honored the Mother when on the Mother's territory, and that is what counts. They honored Her spectacularly." Obi-Wan stared fixedly ahead.

"So they have a sense of propriety, well and good. And we have witnessed them doing incredible things with their power. Can they offer us force pikes, or something more powerful, or give us artillery to defend ourselves? What if their clone army, and what _is_ a clone, exactly, is busy elsewhere? Your testimony, Trokas, makes me feel akin to them and their Republic and we certainly do _not _want to end up as puddles like the misbegotten Gungans" --- so the vid _did_ make some impression, thank you, Mace of the Windu, Obi-Wan thought --- "but I need some hard assurances. What can you tell me, Master Jedi?"

_So it's on to Stuff and can we offer more Stuff than the Separatists can. Mother._

The river overflowed.

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	47. Chapter 47

Part Forty-Seven

From respect, Anakin ignored the orange tinge of mold near Leader Qikal's right earlobe. This man of faith, this leader of a small village and it environs, was the lynchpin of the proposed alliance between Trow and the Republic. Anakin would make no faces, he would keep eyes front. He let Master speak. He was ready to step in and assist, however. They had come a long journey down Gitchy to this cataract and he wasn't about to jump ship now. He listened as hard as he had ever listened to anything in his life, including his wedding vows. Perhaps Obi-Wan's only need was to be needed, as Master Ry-Gaul said, but anyone could use a helping hand now and then. Even strong Masters.

To Anakin's surprise, Obi-Wan ordered a fizzy juice drink, saying nothing until it arrived after a lengthy preparation. He sipped it. He savored it. He waited until the room quietened before saying, "Mmmmm. Delicious. I may give up alcohol for these. My compliments to the barrista."

_Way to dramatize, Master. You've got their attention now._

"Mr. President, as it stands, you want your world to change and you want it to be safely neutral while that happens. You want arms to ensure that safety." Obi-Wan put down his drink and folded his arms.

Strenghis nodded slowly. "A basic summary, yes. It may interest you to know that I didn't mention wanting to keep neutral with the Separatist envoys who left a few days ago for some terrible-sounding place called Jibbum."

_Never heard of it. Onward. _"And after the war ends, whenever that may be, you will not join the victor, but stay neutral."

"Correct."

"I am authorized to pledge that your neutrality would be respected during the war and after. Will the Separatists make that pledge?"

Qikal broke in. "Strenghis, my friend, the Separatists offer weapons that I have used to stun fish and goad an aloas or two, but they haven't offered us any weapons training to go along with them. These Jedi, who could have broken free of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy at any time, honored the Mother unreservedly. We keep true to Trow if we bend with Gitchy's flow a small bit and join with them." He rubbed his knee as if it ached from travel.

Obi-Wan played Ry-Gaul's statement holo as an embellishment. Old Grunbi's concerns about his world, added to Ry-Gaul's commentary, made some in the crowd regard their President doubtfully. He kept looking thoughtfully at Obi-Wan. By now nearly all the Congressmembers were present, some listening at the double doors if they couldn't set foot inside.

Obi-Wan sucked his teeth. "So. The Republic wants a base. We offer a well-trained army, a SoroSuub V-35 Courier, slightly used, training staff for your populace to learn to read Basic, a generous commitment of at least two years."

_And a mentoring program for those who wish to emigrate from Trow,_ Anakin said to himself.

"I also offer a transfer system for all Nepsans or anyone from Trow's less populated areas to study in and/or visit Coruscant, all expenses subsidized." Obi-Wan saw their maid/server's eyes light up, and also the maitre-d's.

Anakin froze his expression. _I only thought that. I'm sure that I did this time. What's going on?_ He hoisted Obi-Wan's tumbler to get the last of Obi-Wan's fizzy drink and to quiet his shaking hands. The drink was flat now.

Qikal leaned in. "My old friend, hear me. Our plan can stay the same, the national service, my upgraded role in the government, for after the war, at least. For this war's duration, I believe the Republic is the way to go. We won't be subsumed by any entity whose representatives can honor the Mother like they can."

"And another twenty thousand glowglobes," Obi-Wan added, flushing from the stuffiness of the closely-packed room.

"You see? They offer lights as an inducement. They are near the Mother's heart whether they know it or not." Qikal craned his neck to see Kuki, who made a tight nod of approval.

A long pause. "Very well then. You have persuaded me. Trow shall join the Republic." In the unrestrained cheers that erupted afterwards, Obi-Wan and Anakin found no need to use their bond at all to communicate.

The river danced.

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	48. Chapter 48

Part Forty-Eight

"Reps! Reps! Reps Reps Reps!"

The impromptu party turned out to be heartwarming and jolly. Qikal's face creased in a few smiles and even Strenghis shook a leg in a vigorous, energizing everyone-hopping-in-a-circle dance that evolved into pairings of many kinds when the tunes turned slow. A quartet of males hummed and grunted songs in lieu of any instruments except drums. One enterprising sort filled a row of tumblers with varying levels of water and tapped out harmonies. At various points during the evening, Anakin and Obi-Wan danced with each other, with a whooping, revitalized Kuki, and finally with Qikal in a triple partnership, the Leader swaying to the beat while Obi-Wan and Anakin jigged around him. After one hour of the crowd's indulgence in fizzy juices, the downstairs 'fresher was in constant use. "Be back soon," Obi-Wan mouthed to Anakin from across their table during a break in the dancing. He waggled their room key and motioned with his eyes upstairs.

Anakin nodded as Obi-Wan left, the Master sticking his fingers in the communal nutrient paste bowl, the only food available. Obi-Wan licked off the purple blob as he went upstairs. "Mr. President, may Master and I borrow your shuttle to return home? It will save us some time and I would like to visit my sick friend."

Strenghis peered over Kuki's shoulder so that he could see Anakin better. She had wound up in his lap somehow. "I don't see a problem. Your teaching teams can return it."

"We'll leave when Master says, probably tomorrow morning. Eh, here he comes now." Obi-Wan's Force-presence frizzled with a _something _that Anakin recognized straight away. He continued, "Master, when are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. We'll comm Coruscant from onboard ship so things will be in motion as soon as possible. Meanwhile, if the Separatists return or threaten in any way, Anakin will disconnect and reconfigure the shuttle's homing beacon to act as your emergency signal. Can do?" Obi-Wan turned to Anakin and _winked_ when Anakin indicated affirmation. "Then we'll leave the beacon with you, sir. And now" --- Obi-Wan rose to his feet --- "we'll leave your party to stroll for a bit before retiring. We'll see you before we depart. Come, Padawan. Good night, sir. Kuki." Obi-Wan offered a warm, lingering smile at Kuki. He nodded once. Her delighted answering smile gleamed whitely. Obi-Wan took Anakin's hand and left the inn.

"Alliance Day, Master. Their first. And you did it."

"We did it together, Anakin."

Would Obi-Wan _ask_ him to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority ever again? Anakin didn't think so. Perhaps he would volunteer it. The _something _grew stronger as they walked along slowly. A cool-but-not-unpleasant mist rolled in from Gitchy, not enough to chill them, even without their layers of tunics. Anakin gave in to impulse and ran his hand against the grain of Obi-Wan's hair.

Reasons to have sex with Master, now and in the future: just because he was there, because he needed comfort, because _Anakin_ needed comfort, because Padmé was out of town, because Padmé was in town but unavailable, because Master looks incredible tonight without his long hair, his bare corded neck begging to be bitten, his strong hands waiting to tremble in release ... just because. Anakin ruminated upon his new sandals as a cooling off technique. They fit perfectly, as the borrowed Jedi boots had not. He was trying to make something of this when their stroll approached the deserted docks with the _naynabo_-tree gaming area. Their footsteps made no sound on the cobblestones. They paused by Grunbi's old seat, looking out through the hanging leaves on their whiplike branches at mutable Gitchy. The small yellow blossoms shone silver in the pale moonslight. Obi-Wan bent Anakin to him in a searching kiss.

Obi-Wan gave up being strong, strong, strong. His control would be imperfect if he couldn't surrender it to his own demand. And he demanded it tonight, by Gitchy's misty shores. The mist didn't cool like him like he thought it should; he felt heat building in his groin and in his mind. His fingers especially seemed hot and he let them wander from Anakin's neck to his hands, turning Anakin to face away from him as he seated himself on the sturdiest-appearing backless seat attached to the sturdiest-appearing _naynabo_ root. The condensation-covered gaming table in front of Anakin girdled the main trunk of the stately tree.

_I guess that I don't need to worry anymore about how to get up to something with Master Obi-Wan, _Anakin thought as Obi-Wan drew him onto his lap in a wide straddle. "No more mold?"

"No. No more sunburn?"

"No. No more intestinal upse--"

"NO. No more second thoughts?"

"No." Quietly. "That means I can't think of a single reason why we shouldn't do this." Obi-Wan drew both hands up Anakin's thighs, starting on kneecaps and drawing inwards to trace sartorial muscles, landing with a feather's weight on Anakin's crotch. After a moment, he pressed harder there, but felt no response. He abjured using the Force this time as he folded back the top layer of the lavalava just enough to slide both hands inside, forming a nest of interlaced fingers to cradle Anakin's length. He bounced it, he tickled it, he compressed it until slowly it reacted the way that he wanted it to. Anakin sighed.

"Like that?"

"Like that." Anakin couldn't reach backwards to initiate a kiss this way, but decided to allow Obi-Wan to lead. They could trade off in the future, after all. He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the Force. Gitchy hissed as usual, and was the last thing he consciously heard. In the Force, the river was a velvet black cloak with little sparkles of starlight glimmering on it as decoration. There was no hint of aquatic life below, none above in the form of skittering flitterbugs dipping into it for a cautious drink or pursuing even smaller insects, themselves pursued by arching fish. Anakin had not felt this released from sensing life when planetbound, ever. Gitchy would swallow him if he fell into it when it was like this. There would be no yellow-eyed fish to guide him to the surface. It would take a while to get used to this absence of life; the Force was supposed to soothe him. It always had before in these circumstances, when he had accessed it to ensure privacy before rendezvousing with Padmé in the charming garden maze outside 500 Republica. The one time he had decided to let Artoo stay on guard outside their secluded nook, Artoo's swiveling dome had unnerved him; it seemed too much like a motion-tracking surveillance holorecorder. He had deactivated Artoo with a snap of his fingers without moving from his sprawl on their blanket, cast about the garden himself for observers, then continued their tryst. The recollection of outdoor dallying piqued his libido as he emerged from the Force quickly this time, feeling slightly unsettled. It took the memory of his wife's preferences to redirect his thoughts to his present activity.

Remembering Padmé's squealed pleasure inspired Anakin to consider taking Obi-Wan inside him in the way that Padmé did his own self. It would be but a small variation on a theme, after all; he got harder at the very thought. He moved rhythmically now, rubbing his back side to side against Obi-Wan's chest, feeling his Master's stubble of hair and beard rasp against his back. For his plans to continue, he would need an emollient ... the pot of sunburn cream would do, but it lay on the counter by the 'fresher sink. They could find a pharmacy ... not open at this hour. They could sneak into the inn's kitchen and steal some shortening ... maybe. He could change his plans ... certainly not. Something was poking his back now, not the aroused firmness he expected to feel, but a manufactured, unnatural round shape, something other than his lightsaber. "Obi-Wan, did _you _bring something?" He was getting to know this mutated Obi-Wan more than he thought possible. Obi-Wan didn't say anything, but Anakin felt him nod 'yes' against his spine as he stepped up the pace of rubbing. Anakin smiled a slow smile. _Master, you're a fast learner._

Obi-Wan loosened Anakin's and his own lavalava enough for ease of access. He didn't want to disrobe completely. Some late night intrusion could occur --- _well, it's possible! _--- and he doubted whether Anakin or himself could rewrap the thing quickly. He'd had enough embarrassment on this mission to last a lifetime. He kept his lavalava skirting his thighs, but pulled far apart in a vee with the apex at his abated excitement. He rucked up Anakin's from the back to bare his ass completely, rolling the folds of material to hang down inside his thighs, framing his erection. Obi-Wan couldn't see it, but he could feel it. It was enough.

Anakin glanced downwards at Obi-Wan's hands, warm and strong, calloused to a titillating roughness. He walked his fingers down Obi-Wan's forearms to end on the backs of the moving fingers that kept his heart thumping and sighs coming. _For me. He's put aside years of training in denial for me. Even if I didn't love him back, I would do this for him, if he wanted it._ Obi-Wan gripped Anakin's cock firmly at its base, lightening the contact as he climbed its considerable height. "Oh, yeah. Ohhhhhh, yeahhhh. _Ohhhhhhhhh, ye_---eep."

_Too enthusiastic, Obi-Wan. We want another method this time._ Obi-Wan disengaged and pulled the pot of sunburn cream out of the carrying fold in the front of his waistband. With increased arousal came increased sensitivity --- he swore he could feel every etching, every ridge on his lightsaber snugged against his back. He placed it on the gaming table in front of him, finding an attitude so that it wouldn't roll. He felt Anakin's lightsaber pressed against the soft skin of his midriff.

"All right to take it out?" It was protocol to ask whenever possible before touching another's lightsaber. Obi-Wan loved protocol.

"Yuhhhh ... " It was all Anakin could manage of the Respect-for-Master's-Authority, short version.

Obi-Wan took that for a 'yes.' He withdrew Anakin's lightsaber, running its tip up Anakin's backbone teasingly before placing it crosswise atop his own. There, that would ensure it staying put.

The river proceeded.

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	49. Chapter 49

Part Forty-Nine

Obi-Wan slicked up Anakin fore and aft, neither knowing nor caring to know how this evening would play out. He did the same thing to himself. The silver blossoms brushed his face as he leaned forward to set the pot of cream on the table with his left hand and with the reverse movement wrapped the arm around Anakin's waist. He flattened his right forearm against the small of Anakin's back, bending him forward gently to position him. When Obi-Wan made contact with Anakin's opening, Anakin moaned. Little jogging movements eased Obi-Wan inside.

Anakin gripped the gaming table's edges to brace his weight as he guided himself downward to control the slow entry. It burned. He knew of no healing techniques to make it not. He puffed with his eyes closed, grunting when Obi-Wan was fully seated. It still burned._ So this is it._

_So this is it. _Obi-Wan flinched along with Anakin. He opened his side of their bond fully --- _still shielding, darling, even now?_ --- and slid over a Master's trick of muscle control used to loosen spasming diaphragms during coughing or sneezing fits when silent surveillance was necessary. Now was not the time to fret about the shields. He already knew certainly the worst of Anakin's secrets and had given the hurt of his Padawan's closed-mouthed attitude to the Force. The relaxing trick helped, he knew, because Anakin began to bounce.

_This is as good as sex with Padmé and I don't have to worry about hurting her delicate bones. I can go flat out now. _After ten minutes of up-and-down vigor, Anakin squirmed in a circle, mouth open, panting. Every time that certain spot inside received a rub, he groaned deeply. He had always had sensual undertones to his nature. How anyone could have maintained platonic feelings for Obi-Wan after the Festival, after they had seen him backlit by dual moons on Kuki's front porch was beyond his grasp. He'd not need soul Healers for self-discovery about something as true as this. Before the blood drained from his forebrain completely, a mirage shimmered: the street around the Coruscant corner sporting kiosks with hawkers selling multitudes of wares, all crying for his dataries. He saw himself reaching into his utility belt and hauling out two coins. He took a coin in each hand and flipped it with his thumbs. The coins arced high into the air, coming to rest at a delighted cobbler's stand. The cobbler resembled Dormin's mother as she drew back withered lips in a smile over stumps of teeth and crowed, "Here! For you, dearie!" as she dangled two pairs of footwear at him, one pair white Jedi standard-issue boots, the other glossy red pumps with stiletto heels. Anakin thanked the vendor and tucked both pairs under his arms.

_Shoes? I need to purchase new shoes for someone? Who?_ Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. If this was part of their period of adjustment, he didn't know if he could take being adjusted. He loved Anakin as much as before, and for all the same reasons. What they were doing now was beyond reason. Their actions extended into the dream-purpose of Anakin's dream, he supposed, as he licked across Anakin's back to end in a probe at his armpit. Obi-Wan tasted the sweat there and flattened his tongue to gather what he could. When they were finished, they would return to the Force's realm of study renewed. But they weren't finished yet, and Obi-Wan was in no hurry to be. He reached around to Anakin's groin and firmed a grip on what he couldn't see. He partially rose from the seat, losing his rhythm a moment as half Anakin's weight was upon him despite Anakin's bracing arms. It was a dear weight, though; he had saved his Padawan's life in Gitchy. Of course, Anakin had saved his, as well.

"C-c-can't breathe," Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan mashed his torso just below his ribs. Obi-Wan registered that Anakin had spoken, that was all. The now-familiar _something_ was building now, a tidal wave of feeling that made him cry out as he moved his right hand away from its prize ---_ don't squeeze now you'll hurt him or stop everything for him when you come soon soon almost ready ---_ and raised the activity a notch by snaking the freed hand underneath Anakin's thigh from the side, lifting the limb for deeper penetration. Obi-Wan shuddered helplessly and shoved as if he could push Anakin all the way back to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy, where this new phase in their Master/Padawan relationship had begun. He climaxed as sparkles caromed behind his eyelids and his whimpers became a moan.

Anakin heaved a breath as his Master's warm arm relaxed from his waist and he felt Obi-Wan start to slip away, sliding across Anakin's prostate as he did so, enough to push Anakin over the edge. He hefted his slightly-raised leg higher to put a knee up on the table, clenching and coming with no overt friction as Obi-Wan collapsed on Anakin's back with an endearing cry. Anakin's mechno-hand shattered the table edge as he came and he lost his balance, all his weight and Obi-Wan's, too, shifting to the right as they both fell on their sides to the cool cobblestones. They did nothing consciously for many minutes.

Anakin rubbed his come thoughtfully around his abdomen after a time. The anti-moisture barriers in the glove's synthleather formula resisted any stains._ That means the glove does stain, but it doesn't want to,_ Anakin thought, recalling the several sets of replacement gloves he had on backorder at the Quartermaster's. Not that he cared at the moment. The mist, combined with the stones and his declining adrenaline level, made Anakin shiver. He glanced over his shoulder at Obi-Wan, who looked serene and quite comfortable. "Let's go, Master."

Obi-Wan ran a hand over the dried semen. He scratched the flakes off Anakin's navel until Anakin pulled away. Obi-Wan said, "Well, this was ... okayyy, I guess ... sort of, ah, restful ... but I've heard real sex has mud wrestling and biting, lots of biting, did I mention biting?" Anakin slapped Obi-Wan's wrist lightly.

The river collapsed.

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	50. Chapter 50

Part Fifty

Obi-Wan left the very last of Ry-Gaul's change with the inn's clerk to pay for "a defective dejarik table near the docks, terribly sorry we damaged it further," but the clerk was distracted by doodling a detailed drawing of a Jedi cruiser on the register, waving them off with no questions as he took the money. The party left overturned tumblers and sticky floors and since it was the very first Alliance Day celebration, the last thing Strenghis said to the clerk as he walked out arm-in-arm with Kuki past the returning Jedi was, "Leave it till tomorrow. It's not going anywhere!" Anakin gathered their uniforms from the downstairs 'fresher closet and they mounted the stairs. The room seemed a haven. Anakin removed his mechno-hand to examine it for splinters from the crushed gaming table. He dropped the hand on the chair after inspecting it and left it off for his shower.

After showering separately, the two reclined against the side of the bed, sitting amidst a nest of pillows and mattresses and ruched sheets. It was easy to slip into evening meditation with the glowglobe extinguished and sleep on their horizon. Anakin winced when he attempted a cross-legged pose and switched to a kneeling one. Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's fading hickey in apology. They looked into each other's eyes deeply and began their meditation. Moonslight filtered through cracks in the shutters and the inn was completely quiet.

For the longest time, alternating thoughts of past and present flooded Anakin: of satiation, of peaceful Temple nursery nights with someone crooning a melodic lullaby near a cradle, of _naynabo_ branches brushing his brow, of befriending a shy, slight Bant Eerin ... These thoughts didn't bother him, even though he knew they came from Obi-Wan's memories. Anakin squeezed down his training bond until only a trickle of communion dribbled through. _My shields are stronger than before because we made love without me leaking any other secrets, but we're in a bind if I can't control this on my end of our bond. Must be the 'closeness' I wanted, stars' end, I did want it, but **this** close?_ He was able to halt the stream of consciousness from an oblivious Master before actual words passed through their altered bond, if that's what it was. In the inn, Obi-Wan's voicing Anakin's ideas sounded ominous, but Anakin had put off examining the phenomenon. There were telepaths in the Order, Plo Koon in particular. Anakin found that being around them in the past year drained his mental fortitude. The Tusken incident, combined with his secret marriage, rested deep within his psyche as shameful secrets. He might deny it to himself, but in his darkest thoughts he was ashamed not only of his losing control on Tatooine, but of his marriage. _I wanted a traditional family after Mom died. Not even Master or the Order was enough. I was weak, and Padmé was so beautiful ... _ It was difficult to block out someone as powerful as Master Plo without the telepath noticing the masking. If this new closeness with Master Obi-Wan brought about a changed brand of training bond, how could he continue their physical intimacy without eventually leaking news of his secret wife? Padmé would be devastated to leave her position as Senator due to scandal. It was her life, meaning even more than her marriage to him. Anakin knew that Padmé placed him a close second to her career; close, but still second. She was his angel and she didn't compare at all to those sprites on Iego, viciously luring spacers into their orbit. He knew she didn't._ And then Jar-Jar would become the senior representative from Naboo._ Anakin shuddered.

Obi-Wan came laughing out of his meditation. "My Padawan-Darling, I had a strange time in the Force. It showed me you and I were bound by cords back to back and we were blindfolded. I could not peek out from the blindfold, but you could and you shuffled us upright from our seats on the floor. We were on an enemy destroyer, but I did not feel apprehensive at all. I knew you would save me. The gravity cut out and we floated, bouncing faster and faster between the brig's bulkheads until we hit the door and burst it open. That somehow loosened our bonds and we were able to wriggle free. The funny thing is, is that I was completely happy, absolutely giddy in fact, even though we were in mortal danger. I can't explain it. I feel happy even now."

For Master to say that, the experience must have been ecstatic. Anakin was nonplused. "That's good to know, Master. We've had some trying times on this mission."

Obi-Wan rubbed Anakin's knee and then pulled him into a hug. "The crash, the mold, the mud ... "

"... the Festival ... " They both looked away, even though they couldn't see each other's faces. "And now here we are. Where we haven't been before." Obi-Wan wrapped both arms around Anakin and lay them both down on the rumpled sheets, carefully drawing the coverings over Anakin's stump. "Young one, let's rest." He kissed Anakin's bristly hair and closed his eyes, enfolding Anakin's legs with his. The _something's_ presence was no more. Obi-Wan began to fade, but Anakin pulled his hand free and rubbed Obi-Wan's hair, slicking it back from his forehead. It was still damp from his shower.

"Master, why did you grow your hair long?" If he had been told the reason before, he had forgotten.

"Why? Mmmm, bedtime story. You haven't wanted one of those in some years. All right." His rich voice stirred Anakin's heart. "I hadn't been a Knight for long when I had an epiphany --- you're not the only one to have them --- that said I should concentrate on my inner life and to eliminate everything that did not foster that inner life, that was a distraction. The time spent getting a haircut and shave could be used for a meditation on the Living Force, particularly. So I cut out trimming my hair and beard to a large degree and did just that."

"Why not cut out bathing, too?"

"Everything has limits, Padawan. Social contact with others precluded letting myself go completely."

Something tickled the back of Anakin's mind. "Not like Master Qui-Gon did sometimes."

"Um, yes, Master Qui-Gon went for weeks at a time without bathing, rapturously intent on some aspect of the Force that I'll never grasp." Obi-Wan laughed again. Anakin had never heard him this lighthearted. "I used to push him in the pool 'accidentally' or 'playfully' on purpose, you know. And rainstorms were a blessing a few times."

"And Master Qui-Gon let his hair grow long, too," Anakin said softly.

"I know." Obi-Wan tenderly touched the spot on Anakin's right arm where the interface to his mechno-hand was. Anakin felt a flutter from his implants. "I know," Obi-Wan repeated. "Good night, Anakin."

The river reflected.

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	51. Chapter 51

Part Fifty-One

Obi-Wan woke up to a glorious sensation: Anakin's breath in his ear. His Padawan had explored the depths of the dream-purpose with him, just as Anakin had explained that they would. _He does know more than I do, about some things anyway. And he's sensitive to the Force in ways that I am not. And he has remarkable lips. And he makes me happy._ There didn't seem to be anymore to think, so Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and listened to Anakin's snuffles in his ear. He was nearly asleep when Anakin awoke, arose and reattached his arm. Obi-Wan heard the _tssh_ of closing circuits in the hush of the room. Somewhere in the inn, a baby cried and was comforted. The clanging of breakfast preparation in the kitchen echoed in his head. The clamor of the Living Force was overwhelming this morning and he supposed the lowering of his shields was due to his new status with his powerful Padawan. He had heard that opening new sensual doors for Jedi could be as much a trial as any assigned to those seeking Knighthood. For some reason, Depa Billaba sprang to mind. Her status as Councilmember, Jedi Master, and Chalactan Adept had not saved her mind from shredding under her experiences on Haruun Kal six months ago. The last time Obi-Wan had seen her during his rounds of visiting the sick in the infirmary, he had gazed incomprehensibly at her catatonic form. How could her training have deserted her so? The Chalactan Adepts taught resistance to mental manipulation and the gold bead of their Greater Mark of Illumination that Depa had earned attested to her mastery of their teachings. But she had carved away her bead from her head, her permanent Merit Bead that was not so permanent after all. Was it that her sensitivity to aspects of the Living Force had been swamped by the Summertime War events on Mace's home world? The same sensitivity that had helped her earn her gold bead acted against her when war's crassness eroded her sanity. Obi-Wan, sitting in his seat on the Council one day last month and listening to one of Palpatine's speeches, wished that he had had in-depth training in overcoming mental manipulation. But he had never had it.

Anakin came out of the shower, wrapped himself in his lavalava and handed Obi-Wan's to him. They could play at being a citizen of Trow for a while longer. "Master, what do you think will happen on Trow after we leave?" He rebraided his plait while Obi-Wan watched, handing him his Merit Beads as needed.

"What with Strenghis' plan revealed to the Cabinet by Ry-Gaul's evidence and his conversation with us yesterday, the Congress most likely will keep him, but reprimand or censure him. He's guilty of non-disclosure to his advisors and of loving his world; Congress will not want to lose the goodwill he has engendered. He's going ahead with his plan, the only difference is that we will have Trow as an ally and a base for defending this sector. Perhaps Senator Amidala would have made a better envoy; if you had stayed on Coruscant to finish your exams as you would have if the galaxy were sane and I had escorted her here, for example, we would not have had to perform as we did for Qikal." Obi-Wan bent to don his sandals and so missed Anakin's speculative look.

"So you wouldn't have honored the Mother with h-her?" They gave each other some adjustments on the lavalavas' draping, accustomed to its intricacies by now.

Obi-Wan snorted. "She would never have agreed to it. We would have had a parley, Qikal would not have, not have p-pawed her visually or physically and he would have been intimidated by my lightsaber and her blaster. He would have shuffled us along to Nepsa for Strenghis to handle the whole thing. Granted, we would not have honored the Mother and he was adamant that everyone should on his watch, but I think that the good Senator could have talked him into special dispensation or something. She is remarkably persuasive."

Anakin thought about her proposing marriage to him as he lay in the Temple infirmary after Geonosis, with Master Luminara down the hallway and Master Obi-Wan due to visit after his own muscle-rebuilding therapy session with Barriss ended, and had to agree. _What would Padmé be like with the Force empowering her?_ Obi-Wan hesitated, then entered the 'fresher and closed the door a moment. After a minute, Anakin saw Obi-Wan emerge and give the 'fresher one last look for anything left behind. Anakin smiled. "Master, you've forgotten one thing."

"Eh?"

"Qikal would have been interested in _you._"

"Pish, Anakin. You're the good-looking one, not me. We're through here; let's go say our farewells to Trow." Obi-Wan led the way out the door.

_It's no use. Master will never value himself the way that I value him. _Anakin hefted their folded uniforms and boots and followed.

xxxxx

As a President, Strenghis was accustomed to lobbyists, as the two Jedi discovered upon admittance to his office.

"You'll take us with you, then?" The inn's teen maitre d', Beebar Nek, blinked big aloas eyes at Obi-Wan, ignoring Anakin. "We've covered our jobs here with some friends' help," he added. "Please, Master? We can be helpful to you on the long trip. We're not afraid of work."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "You've no attachments?"

"None, Master," Egdim "Dimmie" Reppiks stated. She was a cheerful maid/server on Trow, she should do well on Coruscant if she decided to stay and work. "Me folks have more kiddies than they can handle. They said I could be first one of theirs away offplanet, be a good example, y'see."

President Strenghis broke in. "There is room on the shuttle for four passengers. A four-day trip, long, I agree, but surely you can find it in your hearts to take them with you, Master Jedi? The first Billaqori in your Republic's program."

Mr. President had a smug look on his usually stern face. Anakin rolled the pot of sunburn cream in his front waistline pocket and tapped a finger against it in a certain attention-getting rhythm. He was about to tap 'no' in Jedi cypher when Obi-Wan said, "Certainly you may come. Good example it is, too. The teachers will be coming to Trow in one week, approximately, and you may return with them if it suits you. Gather your things then and we'll meet you at the shuttle in one, no, make that two, hours."

Dimmie's and Beebar's auras glowed with delight. "We came prepared, Master," they chirped. They pointed to two bedrolls in one far corner. Anakin could see flowery lavalava material sticking up from where he stood in the Padawan's position. _**I** came prepared, too,_ he thought as he tapped an annoyed _"Masterrrr ---_ " on the ceramic container.

"Ah, I see. One thing, don't call me 'Master,'" Obi-Wan said to the teens. "On this trip, only my Padawan may call me that. I'd prefer you call me 'Knight Kenobi."

"Yes, Knight Kenobi."

Strenghis rose to embrace the two Jedi. _He seems to lack vigor this morning._ Obi-Wan considered._ And do I detect a satisfied air about him? Kuki looked glowing last night, didn't she ... _Kuki and Qikal, the entire Cabinet and one third of Congress, along with Trow's president, saw them off.

_Anakin, put your actions where your principles are. You thought of this program, after all._ At the spaceport, the old man allowed the teen helper to give them coordinates for takeoff, record their destination and time of arrival and smiled the while. Anakin presumed that the old man discerned that his helper would be on an outbound flight for Coruscant soon. The old man seemed too wise not to know. They lifted off, and Trow faded from green scramball to atmosphere-covered marble to streaks of hyperspace. "We're off," Anakin said. "Coruscant in four and-a-half days."

The river groaned.

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	52. Chapter 52

Part Fifty-Two

Four and-a-half days seemed like four and-a-half decades in hyperspace. Beebar and Dimmie graciously did all the galley work, using the onboard stores and some items that they had brought from home. There was no actual galley and only self-heating meals, ready to eat, to satisfy hunger. Volunteering was nice of them, Obi-Wan supposed, but they were as curious as toddlers about the shuttle's technology. He and Anakin stayed mainly in the cockpit writing their mission report for three days, regretting their lack of privacy. There _was_ a minimal 'fresher --- _too small for us both, and it's a **'fresher**, Anakin, really! _--- and the repulsorlift vehicles --- _turn the two on their sides, Master, to improvise a visual barrier, and we could be very, very quiet ... No? ---_ but the shuttle's utilitarian open design had no nooks and they made the best of things for sleeptime. Simple cuddling under spread-out lavalavas was nice, too. Cuddling even became necessary, because space was cold, though the ambient temperature had been turned up to accommodate Dimmie's and Beebar's tropic attire. The Trow citizens were due for some serious shopping upon debarkation, unless they wanted to wear the ecru-and-tan suits of clothing that the Temple would offer them freely. Obi-Wan and Anakin had reverted to wearing their uniforms, which made it easier to scold the two teens when on day three, Beebar flipped one repulsorlift vehicle control lever to 'hover, one-half meter' and persuaded Dimmie to sit on it. He adjusted the other vehicle to 'forward, slow' to push her around the aisles of the vacant troop compartment.

Anakin hovered himself between admiration that Beebar put his free time to good use by studying Aurebesh markings while asking seemingly innocent questions of himself and his Master, and condemnation of Beebar's audacity in operating a vehicle while _inside_ another vehicle. In hyperspace. He supposed such get-up-and-go was the reason that Beebar advanced to maitre d' of the inn's staff. "You could have accidentally pushed the 'forward, emergency pursuit' lever, and we would have had to deal with an atmosphere breach, no little matter in a craft this small. Or Dimmie could have been crushed between your vehicle and the bulkhead, did you think of that?"

Obi-Wan stood back to allow Anakin to berate Beebar, who was at most two years younger. _Yes, Padawan. This **is** what supervising teens is all about._ When Beebar hung his head and Dimmie's lower lip quivered, he intervened. "Lesson learned, Anakin. Dimmie, Beebar, no more adventuring, r-right?" The two teens nodded and sat on the troop seating, uncomfortable plastoid as they were. They stared at the solid bulkhead as if it had windows to show the stars, although hyperspace was featureless.

After breakfast on the fourth day, Dimmie and Beebar at least asked before firing the ventral blaster. Anakin launched into an almost-Masterly lecture, including some reasons that Obi-Wan hadn't even thought of. "We don't waste power charges. We don't know who is around us and who may think that firing weapons for fun is firing for destructive purposes. Space is big, and we don't know the future, even the next ten minutes, so the answer is no." The teens took this in stride; at least they were beyond the pouting stage. They packed and repacked their little bundles a few times, and asked Anakin repeatedly about arrival time. He answered with as much patience as was in his nature.

"Honestly, Master, was I this bad?" Anakin and Obi-Wan finished brainstorming their version of the mission half an hour ago and were sipping denatured tea.

"Far worse, far worse. You were a Jedi Padawan with remarkable powers of evasion, rationalizing, covering up, and inventive bookkeeping."

"Bookkeeping?" Anakin didn't recall altering any books.

"Resetting the laundry's list of sheets issued to our quarters? Specifically the amount of fresh sheets needed during your fifteenth, sixteenth and even your sev--- "

"All right. I remember now." It had been a piece of sweesonberry cake to redo the counters. The hard part had been entering the mainframe area of the Records room. Barriss had helped him by staging a slip-and-fall outside the door, and in the confusion Anakin eased away, did the deed, and reordered both Master's and his own sheets to two hundred-count extra-fine-grade sheets. He owed Barriss one.

Five hours later, Beebar and Dimmie bounced on their feet when the navcomp _ping_ed their arrival. The atmosphere reentry occurred without incident. An unfamiliar voice cleared their arrival at the Temple's south hangar. Anakin set the shuttle down next to the Jedi cruiser that Ry-Gaul had used. _Tru._ Surely he had passed the danger point and was merely awaiting the end of the most irritating stage, the sloughing of the scratchy furry patches. They itched intolerably and shed bits of fur that got on everything.

Obi-Wan gathered their lavalavas, sandals, and the very last of the nutrient paste that Dimmie had brought along for nourishment. He would share it with the rest of his peers of the Masters' table as a curiosity, the way that returning travelers often did in the refectory. That way it would disappear even quicker. The teens charged through the lowering ramp, not apprehensive at all, and Obi-Wan saw Anakin shake his head in amusement as if he were far older and wiser than they. Obi-Wan found the gloom of the hangar soothing to his eyes as he recognized the beginnings of a headache, and followed Anakin down the ramp that dropped them back into their old life.

The river adapted.

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	53. Chapter 53

Part Fifty-Three

With Beebar and Dimmie settled in the waiting room of the Council chambers with an escorting Junior Padawan who had private orders to consider them "adventurous," Obi-Wan gave the mission report that he and Anakin had fashioned. It was to-the-point, glossing over their life-threatening Gitchy adventures and concentrating on the meetings with Grunbi, Strenghis, and Qikal. The whole thing took nearly an hour.

"Fortuitous, the meeting with Leader Qikal was. A power behind the power, he will be. Ready for theocracy, Trow is?" Yoda's leathery skin was bathed in the afternoon's sunlight slanting through the enormous windows. He pricked up his ears while the question reverberated in the tower room. Seven Councilmembers were in their seats, the others being at various other meetings or on missions. Obi-Wan eyed his own seat longingly. His headache increased as he blinked in the dazzling rays of light. Even the dust motes' lazy motion induced a slight nausea. He swallowed a few times, and continued.

"Yes, Master. Qikal is able, Strenghis is able. Their plan for Trow needn't affect our base placement and other considerations. W-we actually impressed the leaders, both secular and religious, of the planet. I can say that negotiations were short, but intense. After meeting for two days, P-President Strenghis, with the counsel of Qikal, agreed to have the Republic's protection and offered a base in return. The less important concessions will be in our written report."

Yoda narrowed his eyes, a small frown wrinkling his brow further. "Tired, are you, Obi-Wan? Strenuous beyond many's endurance, this past week has been. Tomorrow, soon enough your report in writing, it is. Leave for your quarters, you and your Padawan shall, unless healers you wish to consult. Good work, young Jedi." _Who doesn't he call young at some point? _Obi-Wan smiled faintly. Yoda tapped his gimer stick once in dismissal.

"Thank you, Master Yoda. It's only a headache." Obi-Wan led the way out the large doors, not noticing Master Plo eyeing his exit more than the others. Beebar and Dimmie leaped up excitedly. Their escort looked capable enough to prevent major diplomatic blunders. All Jedi were trained in the art of conciliation, which came in handy with ushering politicians about. These rambunctious kids from Trow should be fine in her care.

"Are we staying with you here?" "Can we taste real liquor tonight? I've heard it called 'rocket juice' by some travelers at the inn, why is that, Knight Kenobi?" "Knight Kenobi, I'm cold. Me folks said you were springing for all expenses, so when can we go shopping?" "Let's take the elevator to the top of this spire and look out over everything!"

Obi-Wan massaged his temples. "Padawan Kris will be your Jedi and Republic liaison as long as you stay in Coruscant. She will escort you to the Jedi Hostel nearby, which is for non-Jedi visiting friends. As to liquor, I don't think so." The thought of liquor made his stomach roil the more. He might even give up drinking. "Padawan Kris will live with you for a few days until you become acclimated, which includes buying new clothing. Anakin or Padawan Kris may take you up to the spire if they wish, and I'll be happy to visit with you tomorrow, or,or, perhaps the next day, to see how you are. Welcome to Coruscant," he ended formally, sketching a brief bow. It made his head ache more.

Anakin said, "Padawan Kris, do with them what you will. May The Force Be With You." The three young people waved farewell and started for the elevator. "I'm going to the infirmary to see Tru. I think you should come, too, Master." _Master's pale._

"Of course I will. Tru's had a difficult time of it." Obi-Wan's stride became a tired shuffle as he followed Anakin's lead down the hall. No one was around to see that his Padawan was not following him in the proper Padawan manner. The infirmary was on the bottom floor. "We're going to cheer him up."

"I sense that you're not cheerful, Master. And I think that Master Luminara should look at you. What's wrong?"

"I was anticipating with great pleasure immersing myself in the Force back in our quarters, Padawan, when this headache came upon me. Luminara can help it, I'm sure." _Why aren't pain control techniques working? Am I getting old?_

Tru's cot held an irritable Tru, arching his spine, twining both arms around his body to dig at his reddened back. "Anakin. How did _you_ survive this itching? I want to scratch everywhere all at once." Tru was a Teevan and had multiple joints in his limbs. He was under strict orders not to use his nails to further inflame his usually silvery skin and so had to rub when he wanted to rake.

"Master spread nasty stuff on me. I don't recall what it was." Anakin remembered holing up in his quarters, unwilling to allow anyone other than Master to see him. The nasty stuff was only nasty in odor, because being soothed by strong fingers was pleasant.

"Tru, you're coming along in your recovery, but Master Luminara will scold if you don't help yourself get better. Anakin, tell Tru about our mission, and I'll consult with Luminara a moment." _ You know how to be discreet, young one._ The light from the afternoon sun streamed in here, too, following him from the Council chambers and he raised a hand to shade his eyes.

Master Luminara Unduli sat as upright at her console as she generally did, stirring a glass of something pink. She rose when Obi-Wan entered her office. He shut the door behind him. "So, Lu, what do you have for a headache?"

"Obs, you look worn out."

Luminara smiled her welcome, a smile that stretched and lightened her lip and chin tattoos even as her healer's hands took Obi-Wan's in a preliminary exam. She stilled a moment, and Obi-Wan knew intimately her Force-perception of his condition because his headache not so much faded as winked out of existence. It made his efforts at self-healing shrink to insignificance. _ What she and I would have done to honor the Mother beggars description._ "Thanks. I needed that." The nausea receded, too, and the light from outdoors was bearable. He sat on the exam table, resisting the urge to swing his legs.

"Tough mission? Or is that redundant?" Luminara had not been in the field for some months. She was due to staff New Holstice very soon and Obi-Wan was grateful that she was still here to visit with, as well as treat him.

"Tough, unusual, but rewarding. I'll tell you more at dinner tomorrow night."

"Occasion?"

"In gracious thanks for your sinus lessons. You'll never know how much I appreciated them when I was dunked into a flood, had my mouth and ears filled with watery mud --- "

"Stop. It's over with, Obi-Wan, for good or for bad. You're home now." In Luminara's steady gaze, he saw all that was good about the Order.

The river relaxed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	54. Chapter 54

Part Fifty-Four

"You're home."

"I'm home." Their private audio-only comm channel gave a _flirp!_ sound unlike any Anakin had heard before. He'd run a diagnostic on its innards when he had a chance. "Are you eating something?"

"A protein bar. New brand called _Bulkfast_; it's so-so." Padmé's voice stayed in its Senatorial tone for a moment, then warmed. "Ani. When can we see each other?"

"Where are you?"

"In my office."

"So late?"

"It's been hectic here. There's bad news. Another world's neutrality has been compromised. Orto's coup is as yet a rumor, but there are allegations of a traitor very high up in the Ortolan government, possibly a Minister ... it's a lost cause to send forces there, a lost cause ... "

Her voice was strained with need. "I'll get away late tomorrow afternoon after submitting our written report. I promise, Angel." After his and Obi-Wan's successful mission, he had comforting to spare.

'When _exactly?_"

Unlike her to be this particular, but she was under stress. "Just before dinnertime. Meet you in the Maze?"

"In the Maze, our spot, just before dinnertime. Don't be late. Amidala out." A hurried click, an interruption, most likely. Anakin secreted the comm in his room and returned to the common room. _Now to the mission report. In writing. _

First Day Out: _Unedited version._

_First time I wanted to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release, I was fifteen and saw Master combing his beard before our mirror prior to an Ando embassy ball. His hair needed a trim because it hung to the middle of his shoulder blades and he did not like it quite that long. I wanted to be his barber, because then I could snuggle up to his back, press against it as I reached over his shoulders to draw the top auburn lengths of his hair into my fingers. His skull would press against my midriff as our eyes met in the mirror that he held to check on my work. "That's fine, Padawan," he would say, and he'd close his eyes, relaxing to the snip! snip! sounds._

Anakin read what he'd entered. He pushed 'erase' and began anew.

First Day Out: Routine.

Second Day Out: Routine. _Remembered second time I wanted to say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release. I was seventeen. Master was recovering from heatstroke incurred on Sugnid. He was pale and clammy in the transport's medbay, with a hint of pink returning to his lips. Semi-conscious, he gave a thumbs-up to me before his eyes drifted shut. He sighed before falling back asleep. I remembered giving him the kiss-of-life hours before and wanted to kiss him goodnight. _

Third Day Out: Reviewed Trow briefing.

Fourth Day Out: Upon entry into realspace, fire began in engines, reached into the cabin despite safety firewall. (Note to salvage team: append cause of fire data to this report post-haste.) Crashed into Gitchy River, Master Obi-Wan injured slightly. Rafted through night to

Fifth Day Out: Raft, routine day

Sixth Day Out: Encountered dam, which failed in flood conditions. Escaped immersion in mud. Found shelter in deserted barn.

Seventh Day Out: Met Billaqori leader of Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy. Qikal welcomed us to observe local festival. (Note to self: "Observe" could mean "visually experience" or it could mean "participate in as observant Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy tribesmembers.") Anakin rationalized his choice of words and hurried on.

"The report can be completed tomorrow, Anakin. Come to bed."

Anakin turned in his seat. "I'm nearly done so I can turn it in early, Maaassssttttt --- uh." Obi-Wan looked as he always did at night, sensible blue bathrobe over sensible undergarments-as-sleepwear ... and the Trow sandals. The ones that fit wonderfully well. Anakin edited the partial report, saved his work and shut down the console. Its fading green glow was the only light in their quarters as he navigated to Obi-Wan, who waited in the pitch-black Master bedroom, called that for a reason. It was slightly larger than Anakin's room with a minimally larger bed, the Order's way of showing Padawans what they had to look forward to. It was mostly encouraging.

The river retired.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	55. Chapter 55

Part Fifty-Five

Anakin flung his tunics and leggings over Obi-Wan's blue bathrobe on the room's occasional chair, tossing his slippers next to the Trow sandals. He needed no light to find his Master, because in the shuttle's cockpit during the trip back to Coruscant, he had Force-imprinted on Obi-Wan, mapping his outline, his skin, his heart, his midichlorians upon Anakin's own psyche, until now he felt as if he could never lose this man again. Obi-Wan had done the same, tracing Anakin's braid lovingly, running his hands down Anakin's sides in shaping motions, ending at his throat as he felt the life pulsing beneath the near-invisible hickey. So immersed in their proceedings had they been that they didn't notice Beebar and Dimmie peek around the troop seating area into the cockpit and then retreat in confusion. "Jedi," Dimmie whispered. "Me mother said they were strange."

Beebar placed his lips near Dimmie's pierced earlobe. "They're something, aren't they? I don't understand why they do half of what they do. I'm just glad they do it."

Their two young friends were the last thing on Obi-Wan's mind as he flipped back the comforter. The bed dipped beneath Anakin's weight and they were silent briefly before exchanging fierce hugs. _I did not know we would see home again. Crashing, drowning, suffocating in mud ... home, Obi-Wan, you're home._ He tasted Anakin's lips strong and sure as he savored the generous mouth with sweeps of tongue and clicks of teeth. In harmony with the familiar surroundings, he slowly opened his Padawan's fly, brushing lightly what he found there until its progress matched his own excitement. Side by side, with legs crosshatched and erections bumping together, they grew breathless. First Obi-Wan rolled on top, then Anakin, until finally they settled into a position of Anakin pressing all his weight on the underside of Obi-Wan's legs. Obi-Wan hooked his ankles on Anakin's shoulders, skewing around the sheets. Obi-Wan felt Anakin move apart the dropseat's flap on his onesy, too impatient to peel the suit off. The Force shimmered in the room as Anakin called the pot of sunburn cream from the nightstand to his hand, only it wasn't sunburn cream. It was lubricant with a spicy fragrance that Obi-Wan had bought at a Glitannai Esplanade sex shop not far from the Jedi Temple while Anakin had been at the Teevan deli across the walkway, buying Tru a special treat to break the monotony of infirmary food. All during the chatter-filled meal at Tru's bedside, Obi-Wan had anticipated the upcoming evening in the Temple's quietude with unquiet thoughts of his own. _How To Lay It On Thick_, the Padawan's nickname for an especially oily style of diplomacy taught in Master Lingus' series of lectures, took on a new meaning as Obi-Wan smiled in the absolute darkness of his most private place in the Temple.

_What's this stuff? Master, you conniver, you!_ Anakin dipped three fingers in the lube and threw the pot on the floor. He stuck his tongue in the slickness; the material tasted bland as nutrient paste. _Good. Spicy odor, not spicy burn. He must have gotten it at Zeltron's Zest-4-Life while I was in Taste O'Teevan _this afternoon. He laughed in delight as he smeared it roughly on himself and more gently on Obi-Wan, _hearing_ the Force's murmur in the way that ringed muscles relaxed in nothing flat with Obi-Wan's use of Masterly internal dilation techniques. Anakin waited no longer than he had to to enter Obi-Wan, steadily pushing, waiting a timeless moment, pushing some more. _At last. I'm home._

They slewed sideways in the bed only when Obi-Wan's skull bumped the headboard, continuing until the luxurious two hundred-count sheets became drenched with sweat. As fastidious as he was, what began to bother Obi-Wan was not their sodden bed, but the fact that Anakin wasn't _quite_ reaching the sweet spot that he had on Trow with his agile fingers. Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin's upper arms to still him.

_Guhh---wha--huh? _It took more control than Anakin had in him to stop immediately and for a minute they tussled. Anakin at last stopped rocking, gasping in confusion as Obi-Wan pulled away. Quick as thought, Obi-Wan repositioned himself, kneeling with his cheek flat on the mattress, arms poised as in a pushup, scuttling backwards until Anakin processed the change. _Oh!_ It was like diving into warm velvet all over again and Anakin nearly cried as he kissed Obi-Wan's right elbow.

_Exquisite. Almost there. _After six pushes, Obi-Wan fumbled with one hand at his fly, grabbing and tensing as violently as he had in Supairp Prime's wrestling matches, when he was weaker by the second from ritual exsanguination, but still committed to win, win ... in this more intimate battle, both combatants were winners.

When Obi-Wan flopped on his side, Anakin followed him down, pressing his Master's quivering, unresisting body along the bed that was one large wet spot. Obi-Wan slid until he was flush against the headboard and in danger of being shoved face first into it, when he rallied his strength, stiff-arming and -kneeing against the smooth lammaswood until Anakin bit Obi-Wan's arched trapezius muscle and came with a muffled scream. "Biting, lots of biting, you said," Anakin mumbled a moment later.

xxxxx

"Master?"

"Darling, you were incredible."

"Thanks. So were you."

"Thank you."

"Aren't you cold out here?"

"No. The breeze stopped some time ago, while you were asleep."

"Thinking?"

"A little."

"What about?"

"The Unifying Force."

"It can wait, though, can't it? Till morning?"

"I suppose."

"Your hand is cold."

"It's also numb. Maybe it _is_ too chilly out here."

"I brought your bathrobe. Let's go in."

"You've talked me into it. Lead on, Padawan."

"That's poetry."

"Never."

The river rhymed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	56. Chapter 56

Part Fifty-Six

"Now onto Form VI."

"All right. We haven't sparred in two weeks. After Form II this morning, it's good to continue with a nice, quiet session such as Form VI." Anakin squat-thrust and twisted as he had before their previous practice, afterwards bending each foot backwards with same-side and then diagonal hands. He dropped forward into a handstand, "walked" around the salle, ending in a tight tuck-and-roll in midair to regain his feet, lightsaber extended. It was dialed down as before to almost the lowest traceable power.

"Someone's feeling rather chipper this afternoon."

"I do, Master. We're home." Anakin grinned. "And my dream proves correct: I _am _ready for a fresh start, on practically anything. Aren't y---"

Obi-Wan attacked in the middle of Anakin's question, lunging directly full on, lightsaber spearing forward to balance his free hand's dramatic pointing backwards. With a bent knee, he lowered his body's midpoint to present a smaller target. But Anakin evaded the blow that was aimed at his gut, swinging a foot to the side to whirl long enough for Obi-Wan's lunge to set him at the perfect position for a _thwack!_ across the small of his back. Obi-Wan flattened with the blow, rolling to his feet a moment later. Anakin backflipped away, gesturing playfully with his mechno-hand in a "bring it on" ploy. Obi-Wan took him up on it, switching to something Cin Drallig had emphasized when training Obi-Wan that Obi-Wan knew Drallig had dropped from his curriculum by Anakin's time of instruction with him. Obi-Wan Force-leaped over Anakin, tucking into a roll directly over Anakin's head. He ignited his lightsaber in mid-roll, ready to tap Anakin on the neck in a winning touch, when Anakin flourished a weaving bar of blue, welting his Master on each leg, his right arm and his throat in quick succession. Obi-Wan's breath wheezed out painfully and he came to rest in an undignified heap at Anakin's feet. Now he knew why Master Drallig had stopped teaching this move. At the midpoint of the leap, even though the body was rotating in its spin, a fast enough sword arm could reach in and do considerable damage. Anakin's sword arm, mechno- or flesh, was fast enough. _I wondered on Festival Night who would win if we ever fought seriously. I'm relieved that I will never know._

"Improvisation?" Anakin disengaged his lightsaber and crossed his arms jauntily.

Obi-Wan breathed in and out in a regular fashion, all that he could manage to do for a few minutes. "N-no. Something I learned once long ago and wanted to try again." He leaned on his right hand to push himself into a sitting position, but it buckled beneath his weight. He used his left one instead, sitting cross-legged. "I think it's something better left in the p-past."

"What's wrong with your hand?"

Obi-Wan rubbed it briskly. "It's gone numb, just like last night. Maybe I pinched a nerve at some point."

Anakin lowered his head. "I've hurt you. I was too rough. I'm sorry." He sat by Obi-Wan. "Let me see." He took Obi-Wan's hand after a glance into the observation gallery. It was empty. "Your hand is icy cold, Master. Make a fist for me."

Obi-Wan made a fist, barely feeling the impress of his digits against his palm. The cold feeling ended just above his elbow and reminded him of his treatment with Barriss, just after Geonosis when his injured arm and leg had not yet regenerated perfect nerve endings. He had been unable to return to the field in fighting form for longer than he had liked. "I'm seeing Luminara tonight for dinner. It should be all right by ---_ hic!_ --- then, but if it isn't, she can look into it. Come on, Padawan, let's _--- hic! --- _shower and get out of here."

"Yes, I want to catch up with friends on the comm tonight." The part about lying was to make part of a lie come true, then it didn't color your aura so blatantly, and if no one were looking at your aura, it didn't show up at all. With a twinge of guilt, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was not looking. Anakin would indeed comm Tru or perhaps Serra to chat, then he would head out for Padmé in the Maze. Their special spot, the nook with smooth green hedges that had shade-tolerant flameflowers growing between the trunks. How their conversation would go he hadn't a clue, although he had certain hopes. The upshot would be that he and Obi-Wan would live together permanently, even after Knighthood. Padmé was a supporter of the Jedi, the beneficiary of their protection and goodwill for many years now. She would support his decision. The fine tuning of it all she would work out. She had always been resourceful, just like Obi-Wan.

"Fine. I'll sign the mission report, you may comm it on over, and we'll see each other later. _--- hic!_ --- Bother. ---_ hic! --- _Bother. Pesky _hic!_ cups." Anakin pressed a hand to Obi-Wan's diaphragm, adding his strength to Obi-Wan's to smooth the spasming tissues. It took less than a minute, but in that minute Anakin sensed that Obi-Wan had changed from the Force-imprinted Master of only four days ago. The technique was new to him and he'd ask Obi-Wan about how he felt to him later. Master Yoda would know the reason if Obi-Wan didn't.

The river trusted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	57. Chapter 57

Part Fifty-Seven

The rhythmic creaking of the sofa's frame and the noises of flesh slapping on flesh sounded louder than it should have in the elegantly-appointed Senatorial office. "_Oooooh_. You're very good at this. _Oooooh_. Yes, right there, Ommané. No, lower now. Yes. _Oooooh_. Your hands are so warm." _Anything to take my mind off this mess._ "Rub _--- uhnn --- _harder. Please."

Ommané Retbax obliged with more cupped-hand claps on stressed back muscles. Padmé winced. "Milady. There's a swelling lump here, under your hairline."

Padmé sat upright and worked her shoulders. "I feel it."

"It wasn't there last night." _Last night I didn't need to face the Supreme Chancellor._ "You work too hard, Milady, if you don't mind me saying so," Ommané offered spontaneously. "Senator Binks needs to grow into his responsibilities more, in my opinion." The most junior of Padmé's handmaidens was also the least like her mistress in appearance, with dark honey waves of shoulder-length hair, icy blue eyes and a pouting lower lip. Sometimes Padmé didn't know why she confided more in this seventeen year-old than in her seasoned staff. Maybe it was because of all Padmé's handmaidens, Ommané's background most resembled her own: political aspirations and public service from an early age. Ommané was lighter in the defensive and offensive fighting skills end of the spectrum, but made up for the deficiency in plotting elaborate ways to avoid paparazzi using the other handmaidens. She had a way of tilting her head down and then looking upwards through her curling lashes that suggested her mind whirled its gears both day and night. All in her mistress' service, it went without saying.

"I was brought up to work, Ommané. Senator Binks is contributing to the war effort to his capacity." _If Jar-Jar comes up with any more slogans like, "Gungans Rule!" or "Scratch A Gungan, Find A Patriot," I'll send him on a goodwill tour around the Outer Rim. And let him try out his piloting skills on the way. _"There is no harm in him," she said, almost to herself.

As Ommané refastened the hooks in the bodice of Padmé's grass green foulard, the Senator didn't see the handmaiden purse her lips doubtfully before replying, "As you say, Milady. Will you need the Torpedo this evening as well as this afternoon?" Padmé's most recent vehicle was a Storm IV Uni-Pod Cloud Car manufactured by Bespin Motors. She had had it customized to a single pilot's pod, nicknaming it Torpedo when she ordered the elimination of the gunner's pod and attachment strut, unnecessary in Coruscant's peaceful skies. She had also had it painted pearly white, an opalescent shade that made it glow softly from the glaring billboards onplanet when she ventured out in nocturnal expeditions to various clubs. With her husband's increasingly long absences, Padmé often felt like she was not in a real relationship at all. But tonight would be different --- pleasantly different, Padmé hoped.

"No, thank you. I may go for a stroll this evening before dinner. I want to be alone for a while."

"Milady, I pro--- "

"I'll take my comm. And my shockstick. And I know that you'll be on duty tonight." Padmé looped her arm around Ommané's slim waist and they walked to the door together. "That makes me feel protected."

xxxxx

As an expressionless Red Guard ushered her into the Supreme Chancellor's office, Padmé reflected that due to his recent actions, Palpatine was no longer a trusted colleague, despite his declarations of devotion to her. She wondered how Palpatine had obtained the vid portraying in excrutiating detail Ommané's and her innocent gossipy dinner at The Elfin Sprite. She was even more at a loss to know how he had extrapolated their intense friendship from a simple shared meal. Not a mystery at all was the meaning behind his raised eyebrows, unctuous voice and smile that never cleared his teeth. _He knows and he thinks that the knowledge going public will harm me or our cause somehow. Months ago, Sola stopped asking me why I hadn't anyone "special" in my life. Sola is a good sister. _Her parents Padmé could keep up with. Her mother clung to the habit of sending food packages from home, each with its accompanying datapad recipe in elaborate fonts, decorated with scrollwork along the borders, lovingly signed and dated. Mama also loaded the postal service with table linens, similarly appended with homey notes. "For your trousseau, dear," she'd write each time. Her father mentioned eligible young men-about-town in his weekly comms. They seemed substantive, committed individuals and Padmé always thanked him for the recommendations with a small, positive comment about each one to avoid questions. _It's only a matter of time before one shows up at my doorstep, communiqué of introduction in hand. Dear Papa._

"My dear, please sit." Palpatine adjusted his brocaded robes around his ankles as he leaned forward on the loveseat, spreading his hands disarmingly on his knees. "Your privacy concerns as stated in our initial interoffice comm yesterday are needless, let me assure you first of all. My only issue is the dignity of the Senate and of our home world in these troubled times."

"You've spied on me. How did you do it?" With results gained through years of schooling her expression, Padmé's anger did not evince itself in a frown or downturned mouth. Her voice flattened further. "My dignity is my own affair. I've been Queen and never lost it; as a Senator, I am allowed more leeway." _Bribing one of the servers? A cambot in the overhead sprinklers? A spychip in the bitterleaf garnishes?_

"Spying is an ugly word. I merely want us to work together as productively as before. Nothing comes between me and my duty to the Republic. I'm sure we agree on this ideal?" The Supreme Chancellor looked supremely smug. The afternoon sun gave a warm, avuncular cast to his features, but Padmé knew better. The man was a self-righteous pillar of rectitude with no family, no intimate relationships to soften him.

The implications were plain: Be more discreet. Lose your social life. Nighttime is for recouping your strength. Alone. "We do. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Your Excellency. I'll take your suggestions under advisement. As one Nubian to another." She rose to leave, but he did not see her to the door. She had the uncomfortable sense of losing any advantage she may have had with him before this.

_Does he know about Ani, too? And how **does** he find out about things?_ Stepping into the Torpedo, Padmé did her breathing exercises before starting the vehicle. _In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat._ Threepio remained uncharacteristically quiet from his slot in the afterseat. She calmed enough to turn and look politely into his photoreceptors, a courtesy to high-functioning droids on Naboo. "Threepio, please comm whichever handmaiden is on duty that I will not be returning home until extremely late. And instruct Artoo to find another powering down location than my bedroom immediately after I drop you off home." Ommané was on duty, as Padmé well knew, but it wouldn't do to give even Threepio too much personal data to upload. Or download publicly. He blurted things out sometimes. Maybe she'd program him to speak only Huttese to her, setting his Basic algorithms to "understand" only. It would create comment, but she could live a lie much better than she had thought she could last year. In fact, it was a little fun.

The river plotted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	58. Chapter 58

Part Fifty-Eight

Padmé's handmaidens or Threepio generally did all the shopping. At the display counter of the Coruscanti Comestibles Customizer, Padmé incurred the glares of five humans, two Quarren and one unidentifiable semi-transparent species before she realized her error and took a number. When her turn came, she handled the plastoid replicas of their offerings and chose some picnicking delicacies with care. The Ando baguette had small red flakes in it that she knew from experience lent too much spice to a simple sandwich and the round Alderaani flatbread contained no crevices for condiments. She picked out two Para-rolls instead and debated over barbecued doiseybird slices or plain, deciding on the plain to be garnished with Byss cheese. A large container of chilled Kopi tea, two juicy zogs and snickerdoodles for dessert took less deliberating. After grabbing plastoid dinnerware and stuffing all her purchases into the carryall she'd brought with her from the Torpedo, she put everything on the Senatorial tab and shooed away the police droid who was beginning to give her a docking ticket. _I can't get another ticket. That would add fuel to Palpatine's fire. Palpatine._ Padmé hit the turbos viciously as soon as she could get into the express lane. Speeding back to 500 Republica, her mind spinning and her heart thumping anxiously, she hoped that Ani could sense her distraction and would not demand too much intimacy tonight. At this point, hugs and soothing words sounded much more appealing than anything invasive. _Although if I could really get into it, the release would knock me out for a while. Even five minutes' rest might recharge my brain._ Padmé didn't notice her speed creeping up until she nearly hit the vehicle ahead, a flashier speeder than hers. She punched the emergency overtake button on the console and glimpsed a Duros gaping in shock up at her as her navigational skills overcame his. The Torpedo dropped neatly down in front of the Duros' _pretentious, oversized, **overpriced, UNNECESSARY **... whoa, Padmé. Breathe._ She left the Torpedo with a valet and made her way to the Maze behind the enormous building, feeling the knots in her muscles work themselves out as she walked.

The slight breeze promised a chillier night than last. It was nicer to snuggle under a duvet with someone when the weather was cooler. Small leaves whirled by her as she slowed her pace. She was early for their appointment and Anakin was nothing if not punctual. He was punctual, she was early. Most of their outings began like that, she mused, as she focused her thoughts away from Palpatine and onto her husband. She had not had time to miss him. Their mission couldn't have been too complex if it were over in one week. Probably some treaty signing duty, with Obi-Wan having made a perfectly functional speech that Anakin would mimic if he were asked to say anything. Mirror speech. Useful as a learning tool, but Ani soon would be a Knight and would be expressing his own original thoughts in such circumstances. Padmé clutched her carryall tighter. Her Ani, without Obi-Wan? Anakin's career should depend on his bravery, his sword arm, his kindness. His words would come raggedly ... but surely the Council knew that about him after all these years. They would assign missions where speech would only be a handicap, but other than something involving aquata rebreathers underwater, Padmé couldn't think of any situations like those. She pushed between two trees, snagging her foulard, and entered their special spot. The flameflowers still bloomed, good. She had forgotten to bring something to sit on, bad. _Good thing my gown matches the grass._ Padmé sat down to wait.

Anakin ran over the things he wanted to say in his head. After kissing her soft lips and pressing her petite form to his, getting the greetings out of the way, he'd start by asking her about her day. She had sounded discouraged over the comm the other afternoon. It had been near the end of the day, though, when anyone's energy might flag. She had endurance, he'd give that to her. Anyone who could keep up with him in the bedroom deserved that accolade. And she was mostly sweet in their year of togetherness. Each time they reunited, she was truly interested in talking about his work, relating it to hers, presenting them as a team to the Galaxy. It was reassuring to be part of a team.

"Ohhh, Angel, mmmm ... " Anakin stooped over his wife, wrapping his long arms totally around her after a short kiss. How soft she was, and how pretty in her lowcut gown. Perfectly proportioned. He tightened the hug briefly and then released her. They sank to the grass, lying on their sides. Anakin pushed away after a time to study her face. There was worry under the smile. "I'm all right. Our Courier failed reentry, though, and, and, other things happened, but our mission was successful. The Council is pleased."_ And I am pleased. And I hope that you will be, eventually. May The Force Be With Me._

"Anakin." If his presence did not overwhelm her as it had in the first hot months, neither did it repel her. "How good to see you, I, I mean, I've missed you." She squeezed his bicep. "You look well."

"I am better than well, I'm as happy as I was by Lake Varykino."

"Stars, and after a whole year of marriage, too! It's flattering." _Keep it light. _She sat up to prepare their meal and to keep busy. It was her natural state.

He'd not intended to imply anything to do with the two of them. He'd wanted to communicate his state of mind as simply as he always did with her. He watched her bustle, unwrap, slice. _How to do this, how to do this. _Anakin wanted to consult Obi-Wan, who was well-acquainted with Padmé, if not precisely a close friend. He might give some insights that Anakin could use. But he wouldn't gather any feedback from his Master unless he told Obi-Wan about his legal relationship with Padmé and the Force whispered that the timing was not right. _Two steps forward, one step back._ There, it could almost be a kata! Yes, a kata. He could create his very own Telling-Upsetting-News Kata, just like when you told your scramball mates that you couldn't play on the team anymore because you needed extra tutoring time in Galactic History 2C: The Ruusan Reformation's Resounding Republicanism. He had begun by missing a practice here and there. He continued breaking things off by recruiting a replacement for his position. He finished quitting the team by at last telling Coach. As a final gesture, he promised to cheer them on at the finals. It had all worked out in the end. Few feathers were ruffled.

**_Step One._** "Padmé, I can't spend the night. I'm sorry." He rolled over and propped himself up with his flesh arm as his mechno-hand twirled her side curls. He watched them spring back into position under her elaborate headpiece. She was his angel, she would understand.

"Oh?" Padmé frowned slightly, continuing to slice the Byss cheese for their sandwiches. She prided herself on her sandwich-making skills. Sandwiches were nutritious and fast. Padmé liked fast.

_Hey, that was easy!_ "Yes, Obi-Wan says he's feeling better, but I still need to hang around our quarters for a while. The mission took a lot out of him. It's nothing too serious, though, don't worry."

Padmé spread the cheese on the two Para-rolls, slopped on some relish that her mother had sent her, and surveyed her work. She poured iced Kopi tea for them both into one glass and stuck in two straws. _There. Romantic, but not too. _"Let's eat," she said.

The river thought.

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	59. Chapter 59

Part Fifty-Nine

Despite their Senator Yudrish Sedran's stance against the Military Creation Act, the Chalactan Embassy put on a good spread of food and Palpatine wasn't one to hold grudges. Tonight the scent-markings of kurets imported for the finicky Kubaz reminded him that as Supreme Chancellor he was expected to ingest and imbibe all manner of strange things. As he eyed a succulent Klatooine paddy frog, judging the precise place to strangle it before it wriggled free and embarrassed him, he caught sight of Mon Mothma daintily adding land shrimp to her plate nearly filled with crunchbugs and roast kroyie. He didn't know where she put it all. He had to think of fruit, a repast he detested, in order not to load up and later suffer for it. After he gained more influence, such alien delicacies might become scarce. Because aliens themselves would become scarce, at least on Coruscant. Humans should and would come into their proper inheritance.

The Force sent visions in the strangest places and times, Palpatine thought as he greedily surveyed the rest of the reception's buffet, spearing just one more zog out of its briny sea. He froze in midstep by the aurodium-plated tureen. Shortly prior to the pleasure jaunt with Anakin Skywalker two weeks ago, there was a directive from a meditation to slip in a black market delayed-timer fire accelerant --- _Undetectotane, sweetest little flamer on Coruscant, mate, want to liquidate some unprofitable drags on your property portfolio, grab that lovely insurance, this is the baby that'll do it and none the wiser, eh, eight thousand credits, two, three, four, thanks, there you go, mate ... mate ... uck ...**urggggh ... **wha ... **THUD **_--- into their vehicle. One week later, there arose his vision of gathering some truly juicy blackmail on prissy Miss Naberrie via subverting her simpleminded protocol droid's subroutines. It took an unguarded comment in the fool's hearing about Senator Amidala being in danger of a Senate-rocking scandal that might end her career to spur the cogs in the thing's skullcasing. When he assumed his rightful position, Palpatine would reduce such uppity droids to hauling garbage or pumping out cesspits. The camaraderie he'd observed between the two metal ninnies only furthered his disdain. With soothing squeals and whistles, abetted by Palpatine's commed instructions and the immediate erasure of certain memories, the gibbering moron adjusted Curlytop's trusted astromech to "spy" mode, which had paid off nicely this afternoon. A modification of a certain audio-only specific-frequency comm unit only took seconds. Whatever else the little trash barrel gathered would surely be secondary to the knowledge that Senator Amidala and Miss Retbax shared a heady employer/employee rapport.

Palpatine stared down into the zog brine, seeing an extended version of the results of his arson: the dejarik table whose bolts he'd loosened did hit Kenobi's shaggy cranium as before, but this amended vision went further than the moment of impact. Instead of seeing bloody bone fragments as he'd hoped, he perceived that Kenobi lived on, to an end Palpatine could not see. _So. Still pestering. Pah._ The vision got more interesting when a sublimely nude Anakin sprawled prone on misty ground near a babbling brook somewhere. His apprentice-to-be glared over his shoulder at Kenobi, who emerged from the mist and then _pounced_ on the boy and ... and ... Palpatine dropped his pickle. A dimwit buffet attendant with a dippy smile and a spotless new smock said, "Here y'are, sir, no harm done, sir," and handed it back to him. He clutched at it automatically.

Palpatine knew the vision advanced in time somehow when the brine shimmered a new, darker shade. In the fog behind Obi-Molester-Kenobi and The Vacuous One, on the other side of a queerly-shaped bridge, there floated two tiny human figures, one in the foreground firm and true, the background one unshaped, but exuding a powerful potential if ever forged into a weapon. And Palpatine knew beyond doubt that these ephemera embodied weapons deadly to him, personally and ideologically. Kenobi being peripheral to the scheme of things as he surely must be, it was Anakin who was the source of the fog and who might produce the two threats to all Palpatine's dreams of a new, peaceful, secure empire. **_No._** This would not happen.

_Skywalker is an idiot savant in the Force. But what a savant. That insignificant twit, Kenobi, wants Anakin all to himself. After all the grooming I've done! Listening to the brat's sniveling for years with a gentle, concerned smile plastered on. **My** version of this vision is Anakin knocking Master-Dear into the stream and sitting on the puny git until he drowns._ Sensing no courtier of importance looking in his direction, Palpatine allowed himself an unnaturally wide grin at his imagination's meanderings, **_seeing_** Kenobi's last bubble of air surface and **_hearing_** the splashing struggle. He paused. Yes, it was not the Force, but his own bile fueling this delectable sight. It wouldn't do to slip into a Plagueis-style megalomania at this stage of the game. Later on, he could relive each step, each calculation driving his plans to success. But always with an eye to the Force.

Palpatine blinked and shuffled along the buffet line. He gestured to a secluded bistro table near a noisy fountain that would discourage eavesdropping. "Let's eat," he said to Amedda.

The river drooled.

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	60. Chapter 60

Part Sixty

"That'll be fifteen credits for the Togorian Terrorizer and twenty for the Pink Wampa. Enjoy." The server wrapped its first tentacle around the delicate crystal flute of the frosted drink, oozed the second tentacle around the clear cylinder of Obi-Wan's blue cocktail and pocketed the credits with its third.

"I ordered drinks for us because I got away early. My treat, since you're taking on the dinner tab. Stars, Obi-Wan, the Elfin Sprite? This will devour your month's stipend and then some." Jedi stipends were more generous than most citizens thought.

"It's worth it, Lu. I've the need for Coruscanti civilization tonight. Trow had its charms, though." _Stoneslugs, mmmm._ "And you, how are you?"

"I'm fine, we're fine, thanks for asking. Barriss might be ready for her trials as soon as next year."

The server returned, whipping out a recording stylus for an order comm's central unit adhering deep in an interior fold of blubbery skin. Obi-Wan didn't want to think about where the stylus' retaining cord disappeared to. It was a retro touch in a place this upscale. "How's the soup?" he asked.

"Fresh cream of algae. Might I suggest an hors d'oeuvre also? The pan-fried crispics accompanied by Mutandan porf are my choices."

Luminara raised her eyebrows practically into her cowl. "My choice, too. Obs, how about you?"

"Fine. Appetizers and soup for two, then." The server undulated away.

"Back to me, Obi-Wan, I'm heading to New Holstice in three weeks. Barriss has her own assignment here at Temple and then she'll join me. My first Padawan, but not my last. I'm suited to having them, and Master Yoda is keeping an weather eye on the initiates for me. He'll help me choose a list to consider for next time." Luminara downed half her drink, smearing her finger around the rim and the sugar crystallized there. "Drink up. I'll get you another when you're through."

Obi-Wan swirled his Terrorizer, inhaling its biting bouquet. He put it down rapidly. "I don't want to drink tonight."

"Whoo, whooooo. Good one." Luminara's throaty laugh didn't reach beyond their section, but some diners nearby looked shocked, as if they thought that Jedi never laughed at all. "Hahaha! Haha! Ha ... ha ... heee ... Obi-Wan? You're serious?"

The blue stuff in the crystal cylinder might have been speeder coolant for all Obi-Wan cared. His frown crinkled his brow and he squeezed his right bicep unthinkingly. "It's not appealing tonight, and maybe any other night, don't know why."

Luminara slid the newly-arrived appetizers at him. "Put something inside you first, man. I'll be your common sense." She wolfed down a crispic and tried the soup. "Mmmm, nice and salty."

Obi-Wan ate heartily, still pensive. He didn't speak until they each had mostly finished. "Lu, Trow has changed me."

The Healer snorted. "Must have, if you've quit drinking. Maybe you've been around Anakin's abstemious habits too much. How were things on Trow with you two? Any clashes?" She waved the server over.

Obi-Wan sat stunned. "Cl-Clashes? No. Just the opposite." _Too much._ He picked up his last crispic. "Let's eat," he said.

The river chewed.

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	61. Chapter 61

Part Sixty-One

The freshening breeze stirred the flameflowers into nodding before they closed their petals for the night. Lying peacefully on his back after their picnic, Anakin felt the prickle of grass beneath his neck and on the backs of his hands. The Living Force was strong in their spot. The hedges, woven through expert gardening techniques into a matted barrier, proffered one tiny entrance into their haven. It made Anakin wonder how many other couples had found this nook, rolled on its grassy carpet, moaned aloud in bliss, unheeding of strollers on the opposite side of the verdant wall. Coruscant had numerous places like the Maze scattered about, but the most peaceful in the Force were the ones within Galactic City. Anakin thought that it might have to do with the contrast between ultra-bustling lifestyles and bucolic languor. Not that there were eopies or banthas here, although the Zoo nearby had specimens. No, this bit of Force vibration was on a completely lower plane: insects' hum, leaves furling, birds winging home for the night. Other than sentients, predation stopped at the reptavian class in Coruscant's upper levels like this one. There were hawk-bats and others as top predators, keeping pylat birds and insects' populations at reasonable levels. Scavenger droids recycled any corpses or leftover carrion. Everything was neatly balanced here by sentient minds imitating Nature. Anakin gathered strength for the time he would unbalance the scheme of things in his life.

Padmé stirred beside him. "Time to go, Ani," she whispered a bit impatiently. Profoundly respectful of Jedi methods as she was, they left non-Force types such as herself out in the cold. "I'm leaving now." She gathered her carryall and placed their soiled dinnerware inside. She looked about for any stray garbage. As she knelt before rising, her foulard rippled in Coruscant's manufactured evening zephyr.

_Step Two._ "I'm sorry I won't be staying tonight," Anakin said without opening his eyes. "Are you very lonely, Padmé?" Suddenly it was important that she was not. Some loneliness was unavoidable, such was life, but she was an outgoing person and shouldn't suffer for her marriage to a Jedi.

Padmé brushed his reaching fingertips with hers, but didn't take his hand. She sat back on her heels. "No, Ani. I'm" --- _content?_ --- "content. I walked into this life with eyes wide open. I have a life without you, don't worry. I was invited to a Chalactan reception tonight, for instance."

"Can you still make it?"

"No, it's winding down now. You know those early-riser Chalactans. Now, if it had been Corellians ... "

"Ha. Yeah. Just like the Gungans, party-hearties, all of 'em. They'd just be getting going about now. Say, speaking of Gungans, how is Jar-Jar?" _Please say he is off slogan-making detail._

Padmé wrapped her arms about herself. "He's all right. I took him off Propaganda; his last slogan was outrageous. I helped him start a synchronized swimming group for overstressed Senators, not just from our Chommell Sector but Galaxy-wide. Gorothin Vagger of the Andoan Free Colonies takes his mind off Ando's defection by swimming and he particularly enjoys partnering with Jar-Jar. I do, too. You should come see us sometime."

_Stressed. She's saying she's stressed. I can help with that._ "I'd rather go out dancing with you, Padmé. You're wonderful on the dance floor."

"Mmmmhm, dancing sounds lovely. Remember the first Corellian Ball you escorted me to?"

"Do I ever. Danced my feet off that night: you, Mon Mothma, you, Sheltay, you, you, some tonedeaf Whiphid, you, Jar-Jar ... "

"What did you do, memorize your dance card?"

"Yes. It's part of our training, you know. I've had to work at my memory since I'm not gifted with an eidetic one." He'd memorized flight manuals much more easily. Circuits he could feel in his mind, chips' precious metals, the way power conduits connected, the physics of flight. Names meant beings, slithery beings, shading off part of their essences so that others couldn't truly see them. All except Obi-Wan. He smiled and opened his eyes. Padmé was smiling back fondly at him. But only fondly. He cleared his throat. "Erm, what I mean to say is, Padmé, if you have needs, uh, need to get out of the house at night and I'm not there, it's all right to comm somebody, like Jar-Jar or Bail when he's free, or someone you may know that I don't, and go to these functions without me. I don't mind." He sat up beside her. "Really."

_He's in earnest. Oh, Ani, I, I,_ "I'll think about it. And thank you."

They clasped hands and helped each other up. Anakin took her carryall. "I'll walk you back to the apartment."

"Uh, no, no, that's not necessary."

"I want to, Angel." She was so sweet to keep their marriage under wraps this way. It must be difficult. "I'll be your escort. No one would suspect a Jedi of wrongdoing." Dooku's image left a nasty taste in his mouth, but he pushed down the thought. _Half the kata done. The easier half, I bet, but still ..._

_Did Ommané take everything away with her last time? Could Ani sense anything? I'm sure I could hold a straight face, but now there's Palpatine's spying to think of._ "I'm fine, Ani. Go back to Obi-Wan. If he's not yet well, you can meditate him out of it, maybe. Or do something practical like rub his back. Give him my best, now _won't_ you." Little sharper tone than she'd meant, but Anakin couldn't accompany her home. "I'll see you again. Soon." She kissed goodbye as passionately as she was able and left.

The river whisked.

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	62. Chapter 62

Part Sixty-Two

Luminara tapped her selection on the datapad. "Filet of saberjowl, complete meal. Heavy on the hoi-sauce."

"And you, sir?"

"The same," Obi-Wan parrotted. He could hardly think.

"Good choice, sir." Their server's appendages collected the used dishes, straightened the chargers, adjusted the bowtie encircling its jowls and lit their table's candelabra before Luminara interrupted. "Hold it, please; no hoi-sauce for my friend's order." The server clacked its beak in affirmation as it rippled towards the kitchen. "Trow has changed you, Obi-Wan. I have no desire to treat you as your Healer tonight. _Hoi_-sauce, remember?"

A banquet three years previously had led to an intersystem incident, with only Anakin's burgeoning diplomatic skills holding down the fort while Obi-Wan recovered from his newly-discovered allergy to anything hoi-based. The stains he'd left on the Ualaq princess' sequined ballgown had looked permanent. Anakin had negotiated the Republic's donation of a new summer wardrobe for the princess, whose wrath had cooled appreciatively then. Obi-Wan had been immensely proud of his Padawan and had told him so when the swelling had abated and he was again able to speak. _Anakin._ "Thanks for your care, Lu. I was distracted."

"You. And Anakin. No problems, you say? Are you certain?" She wasn't a soul Healer, but came close enough.

Obi-Wan gathered himself enough to elaborate. "Yes. Some new developments, though. He's getting more independent. Wouldn't say the Respect-for-Master's-Authority after I asked him to." He could talk about this with her. They were both Masters living with their first learners.

Luminara started, then studied the nails on her lightsaber hand. "So he released it for some critical reason due to the mission and refused to reinstate it. How do you feel about that?" she asked neutrally.

_Typical Healer's response_. Obi-Wan shifted his weight. "We're ... closer, as I said earlier, and I comprehend why he didn't say it again given the circumstances" --- _What circumstances? Oh, circumstances like him knowing better than his Master about some things and collapsing a table and me wanting to bathe him in clotted cream and toss, uh, **towel, **him off with my tongue**urp.** Off-topic, Obi-Wan. ---_ "so since he'll be a Knight soon, this won't be an issue for much longer." _But he's not going to be ready for Knighthood even next year._ "Should probably forget it. He's a good Padawan." _Closer, I said. Maybe we're too close._ "Here's our meal." He picked up his fish fork. His hand had recovered completely by the time he left Anakin.

The saberjowl proved delicately moist, and Obi-Wan confessed a certain sense of _rightness_ in the Force that he was eating a member of the species of things that had tried to eat him on Kamino. He stabbed the last bite with his fish fork, rolled it around in his mouth and washed it down with pure water.

Luminara watched him amusedly. "Good, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I'll live on this for a month. Can't hold dessert, can you?"

"No, I'm through, thanks. Obi-Wan, come by tomorrow. I'm prescribing memory vitamins for you."

_Pills, bleah._ "If you say so." This dinner had posed some questions. Tonight should answer a few. Obi-Wan paid the dinner tab while Luminara hailed an air-taxi. She held off on any more inquiries about Anakin, Trow, or absentmindedness. He was grateful. She outlined her plans to establish a combat-readiness course for Junior Padawans on the Healer career track and as she went further into it, Obi-wan pondered how the war aged the young Jedi and sobered the older ones. He himself found his current happy state an absolute joy and had Anakin to thank for it. Whatever happened next, this unexpected, unlooked-for closeness would sustain his heart for a very long time. And he would not give it up easily, should anyone ask.

The river firmed.

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	63. Chapter 63

Part Sixty-Three

Obi-Wan loosened the laces on his leggings atop his full stomach. He sat on the floor in front of their battered sofa._ Better exercise some of that dinner off._ He touched clenched fists between his widespread legs, stretching to the right and left ankles. _At least fifteen reps._ He stopped after a dozen. Anakin came in from the kitchen, dusting his hands of cookie crumbs and swung a leg over his Master's shoulders to plump down on the sofa behind him. He kneaded Obi-Wan's neck and placed a palm on each temple and pressed inwards lightly, repeating the pressure with hands on forehead and occiput. Obi-Wan lolled backwards as Anakin commenced rubbing his palms over Obi-Wan's short, fine hair. "Brilliantine would look good on your hair, Master."

"Brilliantine." _The things he came up with. _Anakin rubbed back and forth, back and forth. Obi-Wan could be more content, he supposed, but he couldn't figure out how.

"Not now, but when it's longer. It grew fast before."

"Perhaps. It's not a prime consideration right now."

That sounded ominous. Anakin wanted to lighten the mood. "Brilliantine's just a little oily, not lacquery, and it's shiny and nice. And it's fragrant, too. And deceptive."

Other than fixing one's hair in place, it didn't register how hair pomade could be deceptive. Obi-Wan waited. He knew his Padawan had small tolerance for mysteries and at times jumped to conclusions. Obi-Wan wanted to be a good example. He waited some more. Anakin continued rubbing back and forth. The silence lengthened. "Padawan."

"Hmm?"

"I'm your Master."

"Without a doubt." _Of all things in the galaxy, I am sure of that._

"I can ensure that you have a long gray beard before recommending you for Knighthood."

"I know." Anakin continued rubbing back to front, smiling at the image. _A beard, like Master's. No, I'm not that much like him._

"I can assign Initiates' Hall duty."

Not so bad. By the time they left Master Ali-Anann's nursery, they made few potty mistakes and most of them were socialized enough not to bite. "Yes."

"So tell me, how is brilliantine deceptive? It's too clear for camouflaging one's face." Obi-Wan's mind had been working on the poser non-stop.

Anakin rubbed side to side. "Its innocent use covers for its lubricious one. It would be convenient just to run your hand through your hair and ... "

"Innocent? Implying its opposite, guilty? Do you feel guilty over our evolved relationship?" _He feels guilt over the Tusken incident, and now this? How can I help him?_

Anakin rolled his fingers down where Obi-Wan's long sideburns used to be. "Yes. I do." _And not because of Padme, though perhaps I should. _"Sometimes I think I could train and study harder and be Knighted sooner. But I know that I'm not ready. I'm having you all to myself" --- _and I love it ---_ "but the Order and the Republic need you, too, to make more Knights out of Padawans. Some Padawan with Temple training, and not as much trouble as I was in the beginning."

Obi-Wan reached up and grabbed both Anakin's hands, thankful that his own right one was recovered and could appreciate Anakin's supple right glove. He pulled the arms down around his neck to feel Anakin's cheek against his. He nestled his growing beard against the shaved smoothness and tugged the braid dangling there. "Anakin, you've spoiled me for other Padawans. And we are officers in a war, we don't know how long it will last. Already the Jedi Order is changing. The Council goes on missions; it never used to. When any protocol changes so much, it doesn't go back to what it was before. What I'm trying to say is, this is a time of transition, and I am grateful that you are my constant." He kissed Anakin's crossed thumbs and rose. "Ugh, I'm getting out of this uniform."

Anakin's eyes filled with tears and he couldn't move. _My constant._

The river blinked.

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	64. Chapter 64

Part Sixty-Four

Obi-Wan surveyed his profile in the narrow mirror on the back of the closet door in his bedroom --- _our bedroom, now ---_ and placed both hands in a vee over his stomach. _Greater effort, Obi-Wan._ Shifting his legs apart, moving to arms akimbo, he leaned far to the left and then to the right before bobbing down in the middle and belching. _There, I feel better._ He assayed five more and was about to quit for the night when he sensed Anakin sneaking up behind him. He pretended he didn't. _Down front, left bob, right bob, stre-e-e-e-e-e-etch. Farther this time. And again._ He blanked his mind to all but physical effort, gliding from one form to the other. _Dancing? Why am I thinking of dancing when I'm trying to blank?_ He started to hum a marching song from initiate days intended to move recalcitrant younglings from the beach or playground back into regimentation. The cadence rolled him along smoothly. He was bobbing down when Anakin stepped up behind him sometime later with no pretence at subtlety, close enough to let him feel his arousal.

Instead of bending to touch his toes submissively at Anakin's affectionate squeeze at his waist and silent demand, Obi-Wan heaved to the right while still bending forward, clearing his left leg from the ground until parallel to the floor while bracing both forearms on his right thigh. He continued whirling to the right, staggering Anakin into an off-balance stumble that left him open for Obi-Wan's stiffened left leg to clip the back of his Padawan's knees. Anakin laughed as he fell, rolling on the carpet, and Obi-Wan laughed, too, as he took his advantage into a headlock where they remained supine for a moment until Anakin regrouped enough to rotate his left shoulder partway free and slam his left arm across Obi-Wan's chest. The blow bounced off Obi-Wan's ribs ineffectively, but a leglock succeeded when Anakin worked his left leg under Obi-Wan's ankles, bracing his strength with a stiffened right leg until he whipped said leg over to lock his own ankles around Obi-Wan's calves. Now it was a question of superior endurance that led to a stasis, Anakin's head close enough to his Master's chest to hear the thumping of his heart and feel the warm breath riffling the top of his head. They strained together, not breaking a sweat. _Good thing we're wearing night clothes, otherwise we'd have rug rash. _Obi-Wan caught sight of his face in the elongated mirror. Lips parted, eyes wide, an anticipatory gleam in them. The picture of excitement. He met his own eyes, while still straining to maintain his position. _You naughty Master. You've shown your Padawan delights that none of the other Masters have shown their learners, but he's shown me things, too. We're training each other. Is that wise?_

Anakin picked up on Obi-Wan's hesitation without knowing its reason and pushed for a win, going limp. When Obi-Wan's grip didn't follow this new attitude, there was some wiggle room. Anakin wiggled. He whipped his head out from the headlock, uncrossed his ankles and rolled onto his side. When Obi-Wan didn't pursue, Anakin propped himself up on one elbow. "Give?"

"Always."

Anakin smiled and leaned in to kiss Obi-Wan's ear. "Let's get off the floor."

Obi-Wan pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Let's." He stood, offering a hand up to Anakin. They looped arms around each other's shoulders as they walked five steps to the bed, never breaking touch as they faced each other at the footboard._ I'm ordering a larger bed. I can say that, that ... I'll think of a reason later._ Obi-Wan sighed as he slid his fingers across Anakin's taut chest, taking the lead as he undid the fastenings of Anakin's undergarment from underarm seam to pants' midthigh hem. He pushed Anakin's head down through the neckline slit and out the side opening, tugging the stretchy material down the long glory of his Padawan's golden form until the garment pooled at Anakin's feet. He knelt to lift one foot out of its rumpled covering and then the other. While he was down there, the throbbing organ at eye level deserved attention. He ran his lips from frenum to base and back again, breathing heavily, shivering himself as Anakin shivered once violently.

Anakin's mechno-hand braced Obi-Wan's head above the ear to guide the moving moist tongue to the most pleasing stretches of sensitivity. He flattened the flesh of his palm against the flesh of his cock, leaving room for the talented mouth to continue. When the arc of his arousal bumped his lower abdomen, he groaned and thrust frantically until Obi-Wan was forced to leave one hand on the floor to keep from being knocked over. _MMMMuhhhhh, he's big, but I think I can take the important part in and leave the rest, there, watch the teeth, lips cover them on the outstroke as well as the in, I taste salt, and now is the time ... yesss .. _

As he came, Anakin dug his nails into Obi-Wan's scalp, which would need a minor healing of two minutes, tops. He staggered back until he sat down heavily. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, savoring the release from intense feeling as much as he had savored its relentless onslaught. Padmé had some things to learn on their next night together. _We've never done this, why? She likes hands well enough, but mouths are more intimate. And softer. And wetter._

Obi-Wan rose and swiped the back of his hand against his lips, looking at the resulting smear of foamy white. He dipped his tongue in the residue curiously. _It's an acquired taste. _He stripped off his undergarments and wiped the rest of the come on them before tossing the wad in the far corner of the room. Anakin remained seated as Obi-Wan pulled the covers back on the clean bed and lay down. Giving the man time to recover from being undone, Obi-Wan found himself thinking of someone --- _Jira?_ --- who had said freedom was everything. He didn't ever recall meeting her or hearing anyone speak of her. _Maybe I do need memory vitamins._

The river anticipated.

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	65. Chapter 65

Part Sixty-Five

_This is the something athletic I was thinking of by Gitchy,_ Obi-Wan thought as his Padawan's energy level flagged. _I'll do the work. _Anakin slumped briefly, then sat up against the headboard. At this point, Anakin was nose and lips and tongue and teeth ---_ ow, watch it, Padawan ---_ as Obi-Wan stood on the bed, legs wide, hands braced against the wall as he thrust. The leverage wasn't the best and this slowed him down. Until he closed his eyes, the framed print above the bed of Qui-Gon and himself on Master's thirtieth Knighting anniversary smiled back at him from stomach level. Obi-Wan didn't want to think about anything except Anakin and was rapidly becoming unable to think at all. He was jolted from his rhythm when Anakin moved his lovely mouth away from its absorbing task and sneezed. "Your hair tickled, sorry, Master," he snuffled. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the bed and smeared his cock and both hands with the spicy-scented lube while Anakin retrieved a handkerchief and blew his nose. After a few thoughtful moments, Obi-Wan fluffed the pillows into one pile and added two sofa cushions underneath. Anakin looked on quizzically until Obi-Wan sat on the pillows and pulled Anakin face down over his lap, rounding the muscular asscheeks with squeezes and pinches. After giggling and squirming, the position relaxed the already-relaxed Padawan further and he became a pliant lump. Obi-Wan sent a long pulse of comfort through their bond and was rewarded by a deep sigh and a murmured "I trust you, Master." He looked down into Anakin's cleft and slid the side of his hand up and down it. Anakin was so limp that he sprawled even more and nestled his cheek on his mechno-hand. He breathed slowly out when Obi-Wan prepared him by tapping an insistent finger against Anakin's opening until it pouted and the finger slipped in. He waited patiently until the moment was right and slid in two more, twisting slowly until Anakin sighed again and came minimally more awake.

_Don't stop! Oh. You're shifting me off the pillows. Am I too heavy for you? This is all soooo gooood. Sooooo gooooood. Hmmm. Hmmmmm _... zzzz ... zzz ... zz ... huh. _Don't doze off and insult Master, don't do it... don't f-fall ...f-f-fall ... asleeeeEEP._ Anakin snapped wide awake when a bewhiskered pair of lips nuzzled his cleft, followed by a wet warmth that shot all the sleepiness out of him. His hands scrabbled on the sheets, but there was no purchase. The devastating warmth piercing sensitive spots rolled over him in drowning waves until he heard his voice whine, "More?" in as high-pitched a tone as Leader Qikal's. Some shuffling and then he was being spread and tipped head downwards while Obi-Wan knelt to enter him with one long stroke. The blood that had shunted to Anakin's head reversed course as best it could, but the position, added to his general fatigue, resulted in a half-hard cock. Anakin was satisfied, though, because there would be many more exciting exchanges in their future. He anticipated Obi-Wan's moves in a give-and-take rhythm that he was getting used to. All comparison to Padmé's talents returned as Anakin felt himself sliding along to the foot of the bed. _A four-poster at this point would be nice, something to grip. Padmé could never do this, not even if we stocked our toybox with all those things she mentioned. _In a split second, he remarked that Obi-Wan's inventiveness exceeded Padmé's, although this was not necessarily a reason for preferring one lover to the other. He didn't think the Force had anything to do with inventiveness in this arena.

For several minutes Obi-Wan's senses blurred into one, with no distinction between touching and seeing and hearing and tasting and smelling. It was the white noise technique, really; nothing stood out as distinctive and everything in the galaxy redshifted along while time slowed most pleasantly. Then an echoing sense of someone else in their room impinged on his mind and he nearly stopped to ask Anakin if he sensed it, too, but the echoes dopplered out and it was just the two of them again. _What __**was**__ that? _In the background of the mostly sleeping Temple inhabitants, striations of consciousness made themselves known: three someones were ill, someone was talking in its sleep, someone could not quiet her mind and tossed ceaselessly despite meditation techniques, and a baby needed its formula. Obi-Wan nearly lifted Anakin's weight off the bed as the bedsprings creaked with their movements. Even while he noticed Anakin's palms guiding his grinding hips, the analysis of the echoes continued in a small, a very small, back room in his mind. Whimpers of pleasure and exciting locales tickled the analyzing lobe of his brain, some images of an mountain-cold lake with a boat docking at an ancient rustic villa, or perhaps it was a resort, or a fort, something large. Inside the villa/resort/fort were perhaps a half-dozen pips of sentient life, one outstandingly powerful in the Force intimately connected to one other. The _something_ that Obi-Wan was familiar with now permeated their connection, but in a different way. This way involved tiny variations of responses, different methods of play, in fact, different shapes to play with. It was outside Obi-Wan's experience, yet not outside the realm of his imaginings. The analysis room turned off its console and shut its door, shortly after deciding that the other pip connected to the powerful one was not a Jedi.

Anakin had never felt this passive, this willing to let someone else take over for the greater good of their relationship. If this had been a kata similar to the one he had earned his yellow Merit Bead for, the Self-Control In Meditation arduous one, he would have practiced and trained for years before finally achieving success. Had he been practicing all the days since Trow, since the humiliating sting of Festival Night? In that case, this Submission Kata was one of the shorter ones to conquer; it had only been nine days since his humbling performance on the commons. In some ways, it felt like a lifetime. As he was pushed forward in a series of powerful lunges followed by a trembling halt in the proceedings, followed by another slam, Anakin grabbed the footboard's rounded top to brace himself. It was time to stop thinking.

When Obi-Wan reached the point of no return, he whispered, "Darling," but Anakin had no matching endearment other than the one he always used. "Master," he said quietly.

The river responded.

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	66. Chapter 66

Part Sixty-Six

If his monthly turn as a Councilmember hadn't led Obi-Wan to visit the sick in the infirmary the next morning, compassion would have. He nodded cheerfully to convalescents, winked at bashful initiates and made funny faces at toddlers. With the comatose lone patient in the psych ward's silence, though, he was at a loss. Even through great pain, a fellow Jedi in full mental control could still be sensed struggling to shield, sublimate discomfort, or with Luminara's guidance and the aid of the Force, coursing through their own body to help with recovery or, at the least, containment of illness. Jedi without full mental control couldn't be supported other than physically, yet if they could speak, Luminara and her fellows had a fighting chance to reach them. With the silent ones, Luminara occasionally asked for help of the telepath she was most familiar with, Plo Koon, although daring to touch another Jedi's mind, even to receive simple impressions, presented risks of the defensive patient hurling up powerful shields and injuring themselves further. Mental patients most often stayed one month or less; Depa Billaba's insanity was not temporary.

"She's never come around?" Obi-Wan took Depa's hand in his. It was warm and pliant, like an artist's mannequin's hand that stayed posed where you put it but couldn't move on its own. Life thumped at its radial pulse point. Life, but not a glimmer of personality. In the Force, her mind from forebrain to midbrain resembled space without any stars or even stray bits of cosmic dust. There was no life in there for midichlorians to spring from. Unless he could consider her tireless hindbrain as sentient, which he could not, he hadn't a hope of reaching her essence. But he would try anyway.

"Talk to her, Obi-Wan. As if she needs catching up, as if she's been offplanet and needs Temple gossip to connect again. I'll fetch your vitamins and check my calendar for this afternoon, if you and Anakin want to talk to me rather than Healer Regork about your latest mission." Luminara's robes swished down the hall and the ambient lighting shaded to "midmorning, rainy day." Obi-Wan heard her in the hall talking to Ry-Gaul, outlining Tru's post-release care when he left the infirmary this afternoon. He tuned out everything but Depa.

"How do you like beige, Depa? I've had your seat reupholstered. It was too soft for me, and it looks better next to Ki's leather one when they match. I've been on the Council for six months now. It's hard. We haven't experience in full-out war, you know that, and some of us are showing the strain. The clones are remarkably adaptive; their vigor makes them the perfect fighting machines and my poor efforts have been only aided by their ingrown tactical abilities. I'm glad it's just you that hears me say this, but they know more than I do about putting an army into the field. They seem to have been inculcated with a respect, almost a reverence, for Jedi that could go to one's head, so maybe it's good that I'm on the Council. Being on the Council is humbling, because there is day-to-day contact with beings that know much about many things, not a little about a lot of things. It's not just my age, it's things like Master Rancisis' ploys that have led us to what small victories we can claim, and Master Yoda's overall caring for the Order, and Master Gallia's superb piloting. You know that I care little for flying, yet here I am every day thinking about how I can improve my abilities. Sometimes I tire of learning, you know? A breather from input would be nice, or a trip to Ragoon-6. I could live there, meditate endlessly, breathe in the Force ... uh, let's get back to you. Can you hear me? Whatever your cri--- actions, if you wake up, I'll negotiate for you. You'll not face things alone. You're never alone when you're a Jedi, Depa." Obi-Wan squeezed the limp hand and smoothed a wrinkle on her muslin gown. "I'm going, but I'll be back again, soon. Anakin's waiting for me, and" --- _I'm stupidly grinning right now, can you sense that? Never mind._ --- "on my next visit, I'll have something else to share. Goodbye, Depa."

e!UoP

Depa Billaba, that's my name. That's who I am. Maybe for only a split second, I have myself back. Not in good mental or physical shape, am I? If only the nurses could make me walk. _Ohhhhh_. Most times I see the ward in outline, like when you get up close to a two-way mirror and see phantoms watching you from a darkened back room behind it. And now someone's turned on a bright light in that observation room. Keep the light on back there so I can see more of you! I miss being on the other side of this mirror; if only the dark hadn't seemed so right, so _warm .._. Now I'm not light, not dark. I'm used to living, or rather existing, in black nothingness. It's quiet in between the screams. Sometimes they're mine. Hello, what's this? Visitors! Familiar scents, familiar steps, not my closest friends but that's all right, I'll take any visitor I can get. It's ... It's ... Luminara? And a male ... Obi-Wan! I saw you both grow up in your classes, each of you a standout. If only I could open my eyes or talk or even smile to say, "I know you, I'm in here, get me out." Mace was here yesterday; now how do I know that? Luminara, bright one, tell your staff I need someone to sing to me, that singing reaches me in here ... oh, there goes the light, someone's dimming it ... oh ... oh ... no ... Obi-Wan, you look different, my brother Jedi ... and I see the reason for it ... and I can't tell you ... be careful. I really don't want any company in here ... black nothingness suits me now ... goodnight, all ... goodnight ...

The river closed.

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	67. Chapter 67

Part Sixty-Seven

"Master, how are you feeling?" They were the only occupants of Luminara's waiting room and the Temple seemed even more echoing than usual. Almost inaudibly, a nalargon tootled a series of sonorous notes in the piped-in background music.

The chairs outside Luminara's office were comfortable, but Obi-Wan squirmed anyway. "All right. I know that we need to talk about many things with Luminara. I'm sorting them through." The music was supposed to relax patients, but Obi-Wan found it more grating than relaxing.

Anakin pressed on. "When you and I Force-imprinted, I had one impression of you and then when we sparred and you got hiccups, I touched you and your impression was different, a tiny bit, is all. Do you know why?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "No. I haven't Force-imprinted with anyone other than you. It's something to ask Luminara about, if you're concerned. Or maybe Master Koon; it was his technique we used. But Anakin, let's gather ourselves and think about possible repercussions of our session today." _Plan, Obi-Wan. It's what you're good at._

_Unifying Force time. Ugh._ "I'll tell everything about the Tusken camp and she'll listen and prescribe meditation." It would be clear-cut and straightforward. He was better at meditating than ever before in his life. And he knew his actions were wrong, always a help when seeking self-improvement.

The nalargon player changed keys in its ongoing melody. _My simpleton._ "I hope so, but we must prepare for situations like Master Yoda and the Council becoming involved, punishment details, no, forget I said that, uh ... my being rebuked for thinking your dreams would pass --- "

"It's nothing to do with your advice, Master. It was unforeseeable by you that Mom's ... Mom's ... d-de ... " It hit him all over again. Torture. Tatooine. He never wanted to see the place again. The Lars household would keep up Mom's grave.

Obi-Wan dared to drop a kiss on Anakin's bowed head. "If you had only told Senator Amidala of your trauma, we could have started helping you a year ago." A frisson of dislike shook him and he quashed it.

Anakin lifted his head, gaze still downwards. He straightened in his seat. "She was nice to me afterwards."

"She _knew?_" Obi-Wan's stomach churned. Now he did have reason to dislike her. What could have possessed her not to tell Anakin's superiors, tell his _Master_, that he had committed these actions and obviously needed a helping hand? It was unconscionable. Why Anakin did not now have complete contempt for her he could not imagine. It was a slap in the face of decency not to help a nineteen year-old _boy_, Jedi or Falleen or Bothan or Mayor of Galactic City or --- Obi-Wan shut down his rant. "And she didn't tell us, Padawan? Why could that be?"

_Stars' end, not now._ "She was nice to me, and she didn't want to make trouble for me. She was in touch with what I was going through, and she helped me by listening, Master. She was my friend. Please don't malign her character. She does respect Jedi ways even if she doesn't know a lot about them. Maybe she thought you'd sense it through our bond, She doesn't know how it only tells location and general emotional state and then only when you access it --- " _But our bond has changed, too. I'm dealing all right with that, but is Master?_

--- "no excuse, she's an adult --- "

--- "_please,_ Master, not now. Let's handle one thing at a time, all right? Padme's peripheral to what I did."

_What you did. You used your lightsaber, the one I trained you to swing, and I'm sure you were swift in dealing out your r-r-revenge, but it was revenge. I can't overlook that. _"Padawan, I'm here to help."

"I'm a Senior Padawan, Master. Whatever comes, I can handle it. But you're right, I do need help." The nalargon riffed up and down three octaves. Anakin searched for and found the off switch to the overhead speaker. Some minutes of silence later, Luminara's office door opened and Knight Tachi emerged, flicking a glance in their direction before stalking away. Obi-Wan ignored the brushoff and stood up along with Anakin, touching shoulders.

Luminara smiled her professional smile at them from the doorway. "Please come in," she said pleasantly.

The river strode.

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	68. Chapter 68

Part Sixty-Eight

"You're certain they all died?" Children, women, pets? The aquarium in the corner bubbled as usual while Luminara took in what Anakin had just confessed. Noncombatants? Violent, savage, unpleasant noncombatants, but even so, no one to offer any real resistance to a Jedi. The dark side had touched Anakin. Luminara's heart ached for Obi-Wan and for Anakin, too. Ever since Ansion, she had been fond of Obi-Wan in a teasing, affectionate way, a way garnered by imprisonment together for days in close quarters. Barriss had befriended Anakin in a prickly, occasional-scramball-match-attending kind of friendship. Barriss said that a little of Anakin went a long way. Luminara sensed Anakin's glad acceptance of Obi-Wan's support.

"Yes, Master. The banthas ran away, though." Anakin hadn't spared the pet massifs who sprang to defend their masters, he hadn't spared the masters or the master's families. At the moment he couldn't weep for any of them. He knew he'd feel better if he could.

"Luminara, sandpeople are sentient and they have a culture. It's a barbaric culture, preying on the unwary, the soft, the unfortunate. This doesn't excuse Anakin's actions; I merely want to point out that his dear mother was a victim like countless other victims of a savage people."

_Negotiating as always, my friend._ "Restitution could be made." Perhaps Healer Regork would approach this case differently; Luminara tended towards the pragmatic.

Anakin gaped. "_Credits_ for what I did? _Credits?_"

Luminara was as dispassionate as her training in this field of the mind had prepared her to be. "They're savage, you say. What customs do they have for righting wrongs? What if you hadn't been an individual redressing your mother's passing, but a warring tribe raiding the camp to avenge its kidnapped member?"

Obi-Wan had prepared for this kind of question with cultural databases imported to his datapad. He fished it out of his robes' pocket and held it up so all could see. He blinked rapidly as if the room's lighting and even the datapad's glow were too bright for him. "The tribe to which the camp belonged roams the Jundland Wastes near Gafsa canyon and accepts skins of water, casks of preserved hubba melons and dried vaporator mushrooms in trade for wrongs."

"I won't hear this," Anakin choked out. "They were people, sand_people_ and I killed every one of them. I know that I, I, wasn't myself, that I was out of my mind with grief, but you can't seriously suggest I find their kinsmen and shove a load of water and vegetables off a landspeeder and say, 'Here. Payment in full.'"

Anakin had a gift for drama, Luminara observed. "Their belief system requires it, Anakin. Even a lifestyle such as theirs realizes that endless feuding results in annihilation. They cling to life in a hostile environment and have found a way to end eternal vengeance. Would you deny them their small comfort because you don't have the same beliefs?" She stared but looked away quickly when Obi-Wan placed a Masterly arm around his Padawan's shaking shoulders and fondled the base of his braid. "It's the same concept in life insurance, Anakin," she continued. "A payment for things that can never be bought. A necessary conundrum, if you will. As long as you _do_ realize that life is the ultimate value and cannot really be purchased?" As Anakin tearily nodded, Luminara remembered with a jolt that Anakin had been a slave, had been bought and sold. She regretted her misstep and was relieved when neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin took note of it. "I'll leave you to think it over while I discharge Tru." She rose rather quickly and headed for the door.

Anakin brightened. "He's going home?"

"He is, itching salve and all. Ry-Gaul says it's far too quiet in his quarters without Tru. He says his ears ring from the silence."

Obi-Wan forced a small smile. "And what does Tru say?"

"Too much." Luminara shut the door. Twenty minutes later, she blinked twice at what she saw through the glass top half of her door. She froze her hand above the palm plate a split-second before it would activate. In her darkened office, the aquarium lamp's soft glow outlined Anakin's tall form sitting on Obi-Wan's lap, the Master rocking his learner slightly. She made a show of saying loudly, "Now, who shut off my music?" and stood on a chair to switch the speaker back on, scraping the chair's legs on the floor. By the time her head came back in line with the glass door, the office lights were back on and Anakin and Obi-Wan sat in their respective chairs once more.

"Back again. Anakin, how are you, my boy? Any thoughts, questions?" He didn't look quite as woebegone; more like a young man coming to terms with his flaws.

Anakin heaved a sigh. "Master Lu, if you think reparations can be made and will satisfy Jedi honor and sandpeoples', too, I'll, I'll do it. But I need time, I _ha--_ strongly dislike that planet."

_Progress. And so fast!_ "I think that it's a good first step, Anakin. Let's end with a meditation and we're done for this session, unless there are any more things to bring up?"

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. Anakin cleared his throat. "Only a, a peeing problem, but I seem to have gotten over it lately."

"Urinary tract infection? While you were on Trow? You needed to have told me sooner; let me look. Obi-Wan, wait outside if he's bash--- "

"No, Master Lu, I mean to say that I_ did_ have a small, um, shyness problem, but that it's gone away."

"I see. Well. Good, Anakin. A breakthrough on your own, Padawan. I'm encouraged about everything else, and you can be, too. Let's meditate now." The Force was a welcome break from conversation.

The river covered.

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	69. Chapter 69

Part Sixty-Nine

Padmeé forced down the Torpedo's yoke, diving through five lanes to the place where she'd first realized Ommané was her most valuable handmaiden. The others currently in her employ cared for her and she for them. They had been in rough predicaments from even before the Trade Federation's invasion of Naboo acted as cement to their camaraderie. When each handmaiden joined her service, Padmé awarded her with a shared time on Varykino as long as Padmé herself or her family didn't need the beautiful villa. The offer was good still when each retired, on average after two years. One handmaiden after the other took her up on her offer. All except Ommané. Whether the timing was off or not, or the seasons Ommané was available for a leave weren't her favorite for a lakeside vacation, Padmé didn't know. At risk of seeming too nobly condescending, she broached the subject one morning when Ommané had collected her the night before from a club whose name she couldn't remember and had received an ambiguous answer as to why her handmaiden had not taken advantage of the perquisite.

Padmé had been married for six months and had welcomed her husband into her bed with joy and tenderness the few times they had spent the night together. Twice she and Anakin had found a linen closet unlocked in the bowels of the Senate and had made use of it for twenty-minute trysts. That had been fun and fast, just way Padmé liked it. The night that Ommane had collected her from the anonymous club, Ommané had paid the bar tab, elbowed her way through the crowd while clinging to Padmé's wavering arm and made it out the door. Ommané strapped her employer into the Torpedo with sure hands and had kept her head. The handmaiden had switched controls to the rear seat; even under those stressful conditions, she saved Padmé's reputation by making it look like the Naboo Senior Senator was sober enough to pilot. The ride home was a sick blur. Padmé clearly recalled only Ommané's square-tipped hands undoing her robes and hairpiece, slithering a stiff nightgown of pristine white over her nauseated body. Ever since that night six months ago, Padmé relied on Ommané's slyness and discretion to bring her home safely. _Anakin is a complicating factor. My work comes first and I'm afraid he can sense it. Jedi and their powers. He says he can't ever read my mind, but what if he suggests things and I think that they're my own ideas? _

From the club came muted Kloo horns, at least two of them, and a vioflute played amateurishly. A chidinkali flute joined in to make it a quartet. _Good. ColdCuts is playing tonight. Ommané's a fan. _The gaiety surrounded and filled her with lightheadedness, a sense of youth, and relaxation all at once. Not even the bite of ryll in the air spoiled it. _I'll be blasted out an airlock if Palpatine is going to intimidate me away from this. _After the valet parked the Torpedo, Padmé swept through the usual crowd without missing a greeting. Ommané was waiting at their favorite booth, frowning. _Oh, she's upset. I'm not late, it's one of her favorite groups playing wonderful dance tunes, what could be wrong? _Padmé had hoped for a respite from upsetting news this evening.

"It's your wedding anniversary tomorrow, Milady."

Ommané knew about Ani, all her handmaidens knew. Briefly Padmé wondered if any one of _them_ could be a spy for Palpatine. She sank deeper into the booth and floundered helplessly with no thought to saving face. Ommané had seen her many ways these past months. Padmé had gotten over being embarrassed in front of her. "I forgot. _I forgot._ What with Naboo time and Coruscant time, I forgot, Ommané. What is the use of having a protocol droid if it won't remind you of things like that? Threepio's due for an overhaul. I was telling him last night about Anakin's latest mission and he called him 'Master Anapkin.' If Anakin is too busy, I'll drop Artoo off along with Threepio at the Lipartian Way shop." Fond of the the two droids as she was, they _were_ machines and needed attention like the Torpedo did.

Ommané shifted closer to her employer; she was able to do that since Padmé had stopped off home and removed today's Senatorial headgear, the last truly extravagant piece that Padmé owned. Now and again Padmé liked to remind herself that she had been a Queen of Naboo. "I've purchased a gift, Milady."

_That's out of bounds, young lady._ "Thanks for the thought, Ommané, but I'll have enough time to shop for something. What did you select for him?" Ommané had only a nodding acquaintance with Anakin.

"An inscribed crystal Ebla beer mug. It says, "First In My heart, Always. It could be one of a series of gift mugs, that way you could re-order far in advance and always have something timely inscribed for each anniversary: 'Second To None,' um, 'Third Time's The Charm,' ah ... ah... "

"_Fore_play Should Be Legislated ... " Padmé deadpanned. Ommané snickered in a teen's sudden explosive mirth, and Padmé saw that her handmaiden could show her lighthearted side in public. She _had_ wondered. "But Ommané, I do know him better than you do. Anakin isn't a drinker. Not one bit of liquor has passed his lips in the time that I've known him, as an adult, I mean." _Did Tatooiners allow their children to drink? It would take the edge off the pain of living in slavery._ She couldn't picture Shmi allowing it, however short a time she had known the woman. It would make him unfit to work for Watto, too. _If I could plan your childhood, Anakin ... _"On Varykino, it was a bit awkward. Paddy Accu tried to induce him to try some wines and beers, but Anakin wouldn't take a sip. He said that he was afraid of himself losing control."_ It's that Jedi Chosen One prophecy again. Ani's always waiting for whatever he was Chosen to do to crop up and he wants to be unimpaired._

"Beg pardon, Milady, but isn't that a bit boring?" Ommané downed a shot of whatever she was having as if to make her point. "Liquor can make some things so much more enjoyable." She looked up from under her lashes in that way that she had. It didn't impress Padmé.

_Overstepping again._ "Ommané, Anakin is _not_ boring. He's my husband and I'll pick out his present." _Crystal does appeal ... maybe a crystal water goblet? _She waved to the server. "Two shots of Namana liquor. Hold the umbrella."

The river dripped.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	70. Chapter 70

Part Seventy

"Anakin, do I seem different to you?" Obi-Wan ran lazy fingers through Anakin's undone braid. Now that he and Anakin had spoken to Luminara, relief had left him yearning for at least one evening of quietude. Come what may, he and Anakin were home for many soothing hours.

Anakin frowned. "I said earlier that you did, Master. Don't you remember?"

"Uh, that's right, that's right. _Guh._ Today has drained me and if I feel this way, you must feel even more enervated." They lay comfortably reading together, Obi-Wan sitting against the headboard of their bed in his blue bathrobe and slippersox, Anakin sprawled prone in his undergarments on what he was beginning to claim as his side of the bed. Obi-Wan put down his datapad, marking his place in the selection of short horror stories he'd begun for relaxation. Rancors, sarlaacs, and the angels on Iego's moons figured prominently in one story. The angels sounded the most fearsome of the lot. Obi-Wan was ready for a thrilling haunted house story where there was a logical explanation for the phantoms in the end. Even an ambiguous ending left him uncomfortable.

Anakin put down the Delta-7 Aethersprite technical manual that he was considering writing an addendum to, thumbing in a bookmark over the blinking page number. "It brought back memories of Mom," he said soberly. "Cliegg said she was happy in our last comm; he's sent me some vids of them together. He's been able to move on, but his health is beginning to fold. To me, he seems resigned. Life in a repulsor chair is getting to him. My step-brother and his girlfriend are concerned about his attitude."

"I'd like to see the vids." Obi-Wan craned his neck to see what Anakin had flipped to on his datapad until Anakin straightened up and sat beside him.

"Here's a party at the Boonta Eve Advent-a-Rama at the Anchorhead Moisture Farmers' Grange eight seasons ago." Obi-Wan watched a woman, who bore no resemblance to Anakin except for her nose, dance with a rough-hewn man with a big smile on his face. They clomped in a line dance, doing about as well as their friends in keeping in step. Then the slow dancing began and the couples paired off in a back-pressed-to-front writhing maneuver that exuded sensuality even through their thick plain clothing. Anakin pressed on through two more ten-minute vids, regretting they were not formatted for holograms so that he could see his mother happy in three dimensions. _Married, Mom and Cliegg. Happy all those years. Working hard while I was working hard. Mom was Owen's mom for longer than his own birth mother. My mom was the best mom._ Married. With anniversaries ... _my anniversary! Tomorrow!_

Obi-Wan noted the dancing in the last vid, a step-slide-slide-step similar to the one Depa had shown him long years ago. He was four and she let him stand on her boots while she slid him around the playroom in the Initiates' Hall. Today's visit had been painful; her blankness unnerved him like few things. He smiled for Anakin's sake. "Lovely couple, Anakin. She looks quite happy. They seem very close." _Close._ Was he too close to Anakin? Today, holding him tightly in his arms while he wept, Obi-Wan had wept in his heart. If he weren't so blast-door-solid happy, he'd be worried for himself. "I would have flown you to see her, Anakin, if it were allowed," he blurted. "I'm glad Cliegg has kept up the relationship with you. And Owen and Beru, too."

Anakin nudged Obi-Wan lightly in the ribs. "I know you would have. I know you. Even detesting flying as much as you do, you'd have done it."

Obi-Wan considered. "Thank you for saying that, Padawan." It was true. Tonight he thought of flying as more of a chore than anathema. A chore that you did the quickest, best, most effective way possible so the enjoyable things could begin. He marveled at the change in himself. It was similar to the change he felt when he was loving Anakin last night. Things he had never before considered doing sounded reasonable and even exciting to him to further his pleasure and Anakin's, too. He wondered if this was the answer to the question he'd asked himself at the Elfin Sprite. He supposed it was. He _was_ too close. He didn't care, though.

The river adhered.

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	71. Chapter 71

Part Seventy-One

In their first-but-not-their-last club of the night, the Frozen Ozone Hotspot, Ommané and Padmé clung together in a slow dance before separating. They held Ommané's left and Padmé's right hands together for one of ColdCuts' standards, the Coruscanti Gavotte, offering their other hands out to partners that materialized swiftly for the lively circle dance. With a whoop and a yell, the quickly-forming group skipped to the left for the regular ten skips, then reversed direction, all the while giggling and trying not to trip over their clothing. Padmé had changed more than her hairpiece at home; she had donned a lightweight suit consisting of a tailored red-orange jacket and trousers with low white pumps. Some partners hadn't come prepared for the high steps and almost fell, which added to the merriment of the informal crowd. Most beings looked as if they had stopped here directly after work, which in this venue could mean a banker's sedentary position or a sculptor's studio. A few practical ones backed away after the first two sets, including some who had had too much Namana liquor to drink, but not too much to know that they were uncoordinated and in danger of injuring themselves. This left six couples swirling, laughing, and swinging their arms high with each "Whoop!" Ommané's red stiletto pumps caught Padmé's eye in the part of the dance that involved touching one's heel to one's opposite knee, kicking outwards and hopping towards the center of the circle. She didn't see how Ommané could balance on the heels and kick at the same time. It was all part of being seventeen and an amateur scramball player, she supposed. Padmé's sport of synchronized swimming flowed leisurely from one pose to another, the one spot of calm activity in her hurried days. Jar-Jar helped immensely with his relaxed, close-to-Nature quality of living in the moment. She treasured him for that reason, if for few others.

Ommané's red stilettoes happily pranced as only a seventeen year-old could prance when the skipping part ended and the hopping sequence began. _Hop-hop-click heels-hop-skip._ And so on, until Padmé grew breathless. "Let's stop before ... I ... get a ... stitch," she gasped. "Ommané. Ommané!" But Ommané urged her on.

"Exercise ... good ... for you ... Milady ... " And so Padmé persevered until an opening skip made her stumble. Ommané caught her. "All ... right, Milady?"

"Y-yes ... but _now_ ... let's sit." They backed out of the circle of happy gavotters, grabbing the laughing dancers on either side of them by the wrists and smacking their hands together to bridge the gap that they had made.

"Hah ... good crowd tonight." Ommané was hardly out of breath.

Padmé agreed. "ColdCuts brings them in each time."

Ommané nodded sagely. "Versatile, they are, Milady, yes, yes, mmmmm?"

Padmé laughed at the girl's Yoda impression. "Ommané, Ommané, call me 'Padmé.'"

"Hmmmm?"

It was getting louder in here. "I said, you may call me 'Padmé.' We've gone beyond 'Milady,' don't you think?

Ommané blinked and Padmé could almost hear her mind spinning in calculation. "Yes, but --- "

"No 'buts.' It's Padmé when we're ... together. Like this, or at 500 Republica."

"But not the Senate."

Padmé met her gaze directly. "No."

Ommané ordered another drink before replying. "All right, Padmé."

"If Ellé or the others say anything, tell them that you may be going undercover for my protection and you want to practice calling me by my first name and thinking of me less formally."

Padmé noticed the way Ommané lit up at this notion. The girl had ambitions and maybe wanted Padmé's job someday. If she did, she'd be the first handmaiden to climb that particular ladder. Padmé swirled the Nemana liquor that some server had automatically freshened. It was said to be addictive. _I'm allowed, _Padmé mused. _It's not spice, _she told her conscience.

Ommane boldly took Padmé's hand, sliding a stiff finger down its palm. Padmé felt the response more slowly than if she'd been sober, but she still felt it. "Would you join me at Varykino some holiday, Mi-- Padmé? It wouldn't be the same without you."

"So you've told me, Ommané." The silence lengthened as ColdCuts commenced a slow, burning ballad sung hoarsely by their vocalist, Teragram Gingwit.

"Dance?" Ommané held out her hand as she rose.

Padmé was feeling her liquor, but wasn't yet drunk. "All right. Just one more."

"Certainly, Milady." Three times they ground their way around the dance floor, and when management doused the lights and turned on the glitterball, Ommané hoisted Padmé into the air before running her hands around her employer's back to support her while Padmé squealed in delight. _She's been working out more if she can do this in stilettoes. _Padmé wrapped her thighs around Ommané's waist and hooked her ankles tightly. _She's changed._

The river speculated.

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	72. Chapter 72

Part Seventy-Two

_"--- flirp --- crackle --- CRACKLE --- hmmmNNNNA_Amidala here. Anakin, ... -ou get away?"

Anakin squeezed the amplifier button on the small comm, leaning forward from his seat on his own bed. "Say again?" He cupped his hand around the annoying scrap of technology.

" --an you get away tonight? Happy Anniversary, by the way. The flowers are lovely. Thank you."

Looking out the window of his room at the late afternoon sun, Anakin smiled. _Flowers. Always get by with flowers._ "Happy Anniversary, Angel. What kind were they?"_ Oooops. The florist droid had said, "Whatever we have, since it's so late, it'll be something in season, Mister Jed I. Walker. Do you wish 'Mister Jed I. Walker' on the vid card?" "No, just 'Ana--' uh, uh, 'A Friend.'"_ He covered quickly. "Erm, I said, 'One dozen of your best.' So, uh, what sort are they?"

_Good save._ "Flameflowers. Same shade as the ones in our spot. Only a little past their prime, but that's all right" ---_ chuzzle ---_ "---akin. Soooo. Shall we say dinnertime, here?" _I've checked the entire apartment. Nothing incriminating for him to spy. 'Spy,' hmmmm. Anakin couldn't be spying for Palpatine, could he? Editing himself out of my life, leaving Ommane in. Nooo, Padme. He's not clev--- he's not, uh, not like that._

"Fine! More than fine! I'll be there with bells on!"

"Please. See you later. Amid--- _chissszzz --- floop --- _out." Anakin scowled at his end of their dedicated comm and lay out a small set of tools alongside it to take with him.

"All ready for your night out?" Obi-Wan appeared in Anakin's half-open doorway.

Anakin sat down on the tools and the comm. "Yes, thanks. I'll be very late, Master. I'm designated flyer for us all." The mini-SoroSuub F-187 fusion cutter probed a very uncomfortable spot. Anakin squirmed. "I m-might stay in someone's quarters, or we might get a room somewhere, you never know. Don't worry about me."

"Never." The bed creaked as Obi-Wan sat down very close to Anakin. _We'll have plenty of time later, Master. Don't get up to something now. Not now! _Obi-Wan kissed Anakin's cheek. "Have fun, Padawan. I'm going to finish my short stories. There's a Jedi-themed holovid tie-in, _I Saw What You Did Last Mission,_ that might prove amusing." Anakin squirmed and Obi-Wan chuckled. "Now, I know that you don't like the horror genre, but I find it tame and nicely predictable. I've seen enough horror on our missions to find the vid studio's version of it anticlimactic." Obi-Wan launched into a retelling of a plot of unendurable banality, while Anakin induced a small Force-push from his buttocks to cushion them from the metal tools. He'd never initiated a push from that part of his anatomy before and it took most of his concentration to maintain it. " --- so wasn't that entertaining, Padawan?"

_"Mmmmmm_hm. Gotta go, Master. Darra and the rest are waiting in the hangar." He'd spend Happy Hour with them, program the speeder for wherever their next stops were, plead space-lag, and be on his way to 500 Republica. Another time he'd not have to lie. A large part of him hated it more and more. "Enjoy your vid." He smacked a farewell peck on Obi-Wan's jaw. "Bye."

On cue, Obi-Wan left with a backwards wink. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He sidled out the half-open door and palmed it completely shut behind him. _Boy needs to unwind with his agemates. Yesterday's session with Luminara calls for layering over with some fun. I felt when he used the Force in there; probably shielding some residual distress to protect me. He's just twenty, after all._ Obi-Wan flipped open the slot on the holoemitter, setting it for 'black-and-white.' _Good mood enhancer. Lots of shadows._

The river coalesced.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	73. Chapter 73

Part Seventy-Three

"Anakin, Ani ... mmmmm ... " Not wanting to topple onto the sofa or knock any of Padmé's knickknacks over on her --- _their_ --- caf table, Anakin braced himself against his wife's onslaught of lips and hands. _She is wonderful. So passionate today! A change from day before yesterday. She must have released her stress somehow._ Anakin swept into her delicate mouth with wide, panting kisses that she eagerly returned. He ran his hands down her back to cup her perfect buttocks through her thin pink evening ensemble and lifted her against him. She groaned into his mouth before squeezing a hand in between their bodies, traveling inexorably downwards. He flinched away, a little tender from sitting on his tools. "Ow."

"I'm sorry, does Little Anakin have an owwie?"

He didn't like it when she pulled her difference in age into their relationship. "Padmé, don't. Obi-Wan and I sparred a lot this morning, starting at dawn. I'm a bit sore yet. I'll take a bath later on and stretch things out."

She grinned predatorily at his choice of words. "Come open your gift." She padded to the endtable in her brocaded house shoes and retrieved a box tied with several gaily-frizzed ribbons. "Open it."

It was more of a command than an invitation, but he smiled gamely and undid the ribbons. Inside were small pearlescent support beads cradling two crystal water goblets. "It's something Mama sent last week. She's been posting me items for my hope chest, the dear. Until we can live together openly, I thought we might have one here and you can take one with you to the Temple so that we can think of each other when we see them." _I am a married woman. Sometimes I need something to remind me about that fact._

xxxxx

Palpatine sniggered to himself when Amedda's massive form withdrew from his office in his usual ponderous steps. He had already informed his staff that he would spend the night on his office sofa after reviewing a security protocol's installment. _Part lie, part truth. The best kind. The kind the Negotiator excels at. _He heaved a longsuffering sigh. _My vision showed Kenobi being struck by the gaming table, and Anakin's rescue by the Billaqori. Why didn't the Force show me that they both were succored? Granted, my eyes aren't what they used to be ... Force, don't desert me now. _Palpatine paced before the great window without seeing the wondrous city outside. After a while he sat down, rocking for a few minutes in his ergonomic chair. He palmed the Republic's emblem on the side of his tasteful desk and the glossy surface flipped over, revealing a large holoemitter the size of a regulation scramball. _Time to update my files on Missy Prissy and her predilection for juveniles. First a nineteen and then a seventeen. What next? Are you trying to recapture your overprivileged, overscheduled youth with bouncing baby boys and girls?_ He rubbed red-rimmed eyes weary from plotting campaigns with the Jedi in early morning strategy meetings, midmorning public relations brunches, explaining the course of the war to the Senate in the afternoons amid funding appeals and holding late night meetings with the dark side of the Force to further his own agenda. He was an elderly man, he thought to himself, whose legacy was nearly ready to unfurl. A peaceful, secure, righteous Galaxy, human-dominated. Lately he'd even been thinking of banning humanoids and near-humans on Coruscant so he wouldn't have to even look at them. Amedda he'd fire without a second thought. _Why, I trusted a Zabrak to be my apprentice, and look what happened. All flash, no substance._ He'd become artistic in his old age, he supposed, because at times the thought of a pleasing uniformity of skin color appealed to him. It was a half-formed notion as yet. Monochromatic white skins around him would soothe nerves jangling from the demands of leadership. But how to implement it, how to implement it ... _Eh, onward to my 'special' time. I'll review the audio comm files later._

Palpatine blinked his eyes rapidly to disperse the redness and felt them turn color into a sickly harvest gold tone. Enraptured by the process as always, he wrung his hands and cackled._ Depraved old git. Get on with it. You could use some relaxation. Last time was mind-boggling, the permutations those two lovelies engaged in, what acrobatics!_ Wiping spittle from his lips and rustling his moistened right hand inside his purple veda-cloth robes through a tailored hole in one pocket, he palpated his withered organ. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of the Republic, Lord Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, leaned forward lasciviously towards the enhanced top-of-the-line holoemitter and flicked its switch with a bony finger.

xxxxx

Anakin had some time to spare before the takeout arrived, and when he used his mechanical talents it meant that he didn't have to talk. _Third part of my Breaking-Upsetting-News Kata. I think that will be the most difficult. Should I attempt it tonight, or tomorrow morning_? He broke open the casing on both comms, peering inside the tangled works. Could it be something physical, or something in its programming making the annoying _flirp!_ sounds and occasional clicks? He pulled out the works and spilled them on the caf table. After degaussing the entire pile, the static, if that were the cause of the problem, should be erased. He set about degaussing. He heard Padmé in the bedroom saying something to Artoo. He finished degaussing and measured the comms' electrical state, satisfied that it was correct. Artoo trundled up behind him, Padmé closely following.

"Ani, if you have the time, could you also look at Artoo? If you do have the time, that is; if you don't, I'll have him and Threepio go to the Lipartian Way shop." It _was_ their anniversary after all, and Padmé couldn't monopolize the talents he'd displayed the first time they'd met on Tatooine on this particular evening without feeling a little guilt. She looked forward to monopolizing the conversation at dinner more. From what he had said in the Maze, Trow sounded like a thoroughly banal place, and she'd prefer not to hear more about it.

"Sure. Come here, Artoo. How's it going?" Padmé rolled her eyes when Artoo tweedled out a string of notes. Her music appreciation course told her that they were slightly off-key from his usual range, but that was all. Anakin squinted into Artoo's systems diagnostic input receptor.

"Padmé?"

"Yes, Ani?"

"Hold this light closer, please. He's got something jammed in here, all right. Looks like he's been trying to work it loose on his own, poor little guy." Anakin patted Artoo's tilted dome with his flesh hand.

"Let's see, he was in the bedroom these last few nights for powering down. I instructed Threepio to direct him somewhere else, but I haven't paid much attention to either droid lately. Life's been ... well, you know, and Artoo can be sneaky when he wants to."

Anakin poked his expandable tweezing tool into Artoo's slot, careful to set its magnetization lever to zero. He'd not want to affect Artoo's memory in any way. "It's a chip," he said, sliding the wafer the last few centimeters with the Force. He held it up so that she could see. "No manufacturer's imprint, nothing remarkable other than that."

Threepio's servomotors made their high-pitched _sneezee-thump _rhythm as he came down the steps from an upper room. "Master Anapkin! Whatever are you doing? My little friend needs tender touches, not poking with rough unsterilized tools! Thank the Ma--- uh, thank _you_ that he isn't damaged. He isn't, is he? Artoo, say something!" Threepio's coverings would be dripping nervous perspiration if he were an organic, Padmé thought.

_"Flirp, flirp, flup, ptuuuuuuiiiiieeeee!_" Artoo swiveled his dome back and forth, giving the impression of an organic shaking off dizziness after a near-faint. _"Toooodle-redoOOOoo!"_

"Master Anapkin, I feel my subroutines shifting, it's so v-very strange, please ... help ... meeeeeeeeee ... Makerrrrr ... Anapkkkkiinnn ..." Threepio's photoreceptors flickered and blackened. His servomotors froze.

"Threepio!" Already leaning over Artoo with great concern, Padmé and Anakin shifted their attention to Threepio for a split second, then back to Artoo as his round eye analog flared brightly. Their heads pressed together, the couple saw reflected in Artoo's orb not their own images, but a convex view of a hideous yellow-eyed face also leaning in, leering at them from seeming inches away. The rheumy eyes looked older than old, with an evil glowing deep within them, like rotting phosphorescent fish eyes. Anakin reacted with Jedi reflexes, thrusting out a hand to block the disturbing view, and a blue flash of feedback hit his Force-protected flesh palm and traveled back to Artoo's eye, disappearing soundlessly into the little droid's dome. Artoo went dead, equally soundlessly. Padmé and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief at their near escape from electrocution and embraced each other.

xxxxx

Caught with one hand inside his secret pocket and the other too weak to fend off the focused blue lightning alone, Sidious shot back in his seat as if poleaxed, his back arching orgasmically. _Anakin and Padme? They are my doom? Did Plagueis feel this sick betrayal as I do?_ Sidious' eyes smoked and exploded as his brain cooked through and through, but not quick enough to prevent agonized thought. _Failed. Failed. Dooku won't be able to hold my Sithly dream empire together. Grievous will look to Dooku for strength, find self-indulgence instead, and rise up against him. For a machine, he's not very loyal._ It was Sidious' only unequivocal failure interpreting a Force-vision to have devastating consequences. As blue bolts pierced him through in his office, Sidious cursed all sides of the Force as he died in a coruscating arc of blue-white. Not even the Dark Jedi adepts that he had discreetly approached as Palpatine could help him reincarnate now, as he had thought they might. _Blast_, he thought, expiring. _I was __**almost**__ sure Kenobi would die on Trow, almost!_

xxxxx

Mace Windu wasn't one to experience boredom as others did. He had the vast Republic to admire, even though her Senatorial ditherings over the past few years frustrated him. To his almost shame, the war had improved the ruling body's alacrity in only minimal ways. He did not include Senators such as Amidala in his critiques; his meetings with her impressed him greatly with her speed in getting to the point. He approved of her and her fellows. As he entered the nearest meditation chamber to his quarters and settled in his favored kneeling position, Mace could see where non-Jedi might find the repetitiveness of his life boring. As he left his surroundings to bathe in the Force's supporting warmth, he pitied those non-Jedi without a trace of condescension. The Force was with him. Mere minutes into a meditation that others might call routine, Mace suddenly felt as if he were standing under a waterfall of rainbows, hearing choirs, tasting Whyren's Reserve #12 Special Limited Distillation, smelling Haruun Kal's homey, ripe jungle odor, and seeing the violet speeder that he'd modded when he was seventeen. The biggest, widest grin that he could recall ever having split his face and he whooped inside himself, no, out loud it was, he thought wonderingly. From a normal meditation to an experience approaching ecstasy, the Force sang around him. Slipping sideways into the Force's lens of shatterpoints, he discerned a lack of Sith that was disturbing, but in a good way. Only a ripple of Sithly presence disturbed the Force's ebb and flow, a ripple centering upon one not nearly as powerful as the one malicious being who had created the nauseating whirl of blackness that had occluded his perception for years. It would seem that an apprentice had lost his master. If the anonymous master has been destroyed, and Dooku is left, it would be a struggle to end the war --- such an awful war that 'winning' was the wrong term --- yet with Dooku, a former Jedi, the Republic had an edge to knowing his mind. _No, ecstasy is the wrong term. The right term is __**YEEEHAAAAAA!!!!!**_

The river came.

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	74. Chapter 74

Part Seventy-Four

Master Ali-Anann retied Initiate Mimo's hair ribbon for the third time that day. The Mirialan toddler switched from babbling about her new best friend to describing in detail how pudding was her dessert of choice because you could eat it with a spoon _or_ a straw. The burly Jedi's large fingers double-knotted the white ribbons just to be on the safe side, setting her off his knee onto the floor again. She grinned up at him. "Fank oo, Mastuw."

"You're very welcome, Miss Mimo." He rose from the bench outside Meditation Room Thirty-Seven in one smooth movement despite his large frame. He leaned down to pick up his end of the leading rope that each youngling clan member clasped or sucked or wound its primary tail around whenever he led them from the nursery to the Room of One Thousand Fountains or any other destination in their enormous shared home. Suddenly, the door to the meditation chamber whished open and out shot _his_ old clan mate, Mace Windu. Mace looked neither left nor right, letting the Force guide his precipitous progress as it sailed him over the line of younglings in one enormous hurdle. Mace didn't break stride until he approached the nearest corner. Then he stopped, shouted, "Feel the Force!" and continued his mad dash. Mace had the most amazing grin on his face. Not even as a youngling had Ali-Anann seen Mace with such a smile, though Mace was prone to explosive bouts of laughter when something was funny enough. Ali-Anann paused to access the Force.

"Mastuw, ice cweam!"

"Mastuw, slippy slides!"

"Lookie, a new belt!"

"Math-tuh, I need to toidy!"

Ali-Anann shook himself out of a vision of an uninterrupted night's sleep and tended to his charges.

xxxxx

"Sensed it, too, I did, Mace." Yoda's ears straightened enough to give the impression of grave thought; if they had been perked, Mace would have known that Yoda had not a clue as to what had just happened. He couldn't recall the last time the fuzzy ears had been perked. "A lessening of the darkness, it was. Something greatly affecting the Jedi has occurred. Time we will need to perceive in what manner."

Mace couldn't stop smiling. "But a good thing, don't you agree, Master Yoda? Whatever it was, something monumentally _good_ has taken place, wouldn't you say?" Mace could live with his ignorance of the details; it was important to him to receive Yoda's affirmation of his beneficial vision.

"Good, undeniably. Farther than that, see I cannot." And Yoda would not commit himself further.

"What should we do next, Master?" Mace wanted to declare a general Jedi holiday, although the Jedi observed only the Republic's days of commemoration of past political events. Mace still wanted to acknowledge this marvelous moment in some way.

Yoda spared his fellow Councilmember a glance with slitted eyes. "Calm yourself, my friend. And join me for tea. When the event becomes known, have need for wide-awake minds, I think."

Mace could not calm. "Rejoicing comes from the Force, Master. Let me rejoice first, and then I will fulfill my duties with you." And Mace excused himself from the august Councilmember's presence, trailing in a dazed way back to Ali-Anann's nursery. The infants napped, the toddlers lay down on their blankets for late afternoon quiet time, and Ali-Anann had put up his feet on a hassock. He gestured to Mace to pull over the nearest rocking chair. They gazed at the future of the Jedi Order in silence. "So what was it, Ali?" Mace asked after a time.

"Big. And good. And that's all I'm sensing. Why, what did you perceive?" Ali-Anann smoothed his dark brown beard in a way that told Mace the nursery Master was content to wait for others to interpret, and that all that really mattered to him slept or dozed under his watchful eye. Mace took a moment to relax and study each quiet little face. For the first time since Depa's trouble, he thought about taking on another Padawan, and the thought brought him joy.

"Rebirth," he said quietly.

The river propulgated.

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	75. Chapter 75

Part Seventy-Five

Padmé and Anakin collapsed onto the sofa, still shaking. "What was _that?"_ Padmé gasped. "Do you think --- could it have been another assassination attempt? There's nothing absolutely critical going on right now with my committees, but ... Artoo and Threepio _gone? _And that --- face, those eyes, I feel sick --- "

Anakin shielded his wife by turning away from her as he cupped his mechno-hand around the chip._ It didn't detonate, but is it boobytrapped?_ He held it to his ear, enhancing his hearing. Nothing._ I didn't crush it, I didn't ... no._ There it lay, innocuous as it was deadly to his --- _their_ --- treasured droid friends. Its plain ceramic surface held his interest. "No marks, none." He patted Padmé's knee comfortingly and took up his light, adjusting it to 'infrared.' "Nothing." 'Ultraviolet.' "Nothing." 'Microscopic magnification.' "Nothing, down to the molecular level." An anomaly? A synergy between the two droids, sparked by something Threepio had downloaded, such as a horror vid similar to the ones Obi-Wan adored, with its special effects filter eradicated? He didn't know.

Padmé leaned over his shoulder. "That is a clue in itself, isn't it? Manufacturers always want something on their products."

"Not black market manufacturers. Someone on Nar Shaddaa could make these up and use nearly non-traceable materials." His --- _their ---_ droids remained as immobile as a traditional-but-basically-useless Chommell Minor windgong, which only rang when hurricanes approached, generally too late for anyone to get underground. _Too late for them. _Anakin didn't know if Artoo or Threepio would ever move again and since analyzing this chip was beyond his capacity, he would need the Jedi Analysis Room and its SP-4 droids. "I'll take this chip to the Temple Analysis Room. We'll make something of it." He looked glumly at Threepio's blackened eyes and remembered the effort, the months, it had taken to build the fussbudget. It had all been for Mom. He'd not let this go. The ghoulish face still chilled him. "Padmé, what were the droids' malfunctions?" It might be a long road to their repair, but he could take a first step.

Padmé considered. "About three weeks ago, Artoo began showing up in my bedroom for powering down, every night, not just occasionally. And Threepio seemed to become even more dithery, if possible. I told him about your mission to Nepsa" --- _boring ---_ "and out of nowhere he called you 'Master Anapkin.' He didn't process my corrections at all." She started when the door chimed the arrival of their takeout. "And Artoo acted the same as always," she said over her shoulder, "only now that I think of it, he positioned himself closer to the bed those ... three ... weeks" --- _Ommané_ --- "um, yes, every night." Padmé slid the door only open enough to take the dinners. "Thank you, Lance. Here's a tip for Pietro for last time. Got the Deltron Spice Wine and the Anoat Malted ... yes, I see you did. See you tomorrow night. No, tonight's not convenient, Lance. Goodbye." With a small smile for their tarnished celebration, Padmé flourished two boxed meals that smelled divinely of terratta. "Dinner is served."

xxxxx

_Padmé isn't saying much._ Anakin's flameflower-scented bath water was delightfully relaxing in the oversized tub that was shaped like a Solleu River duck. He floated on his stomach in a wide sprawl, pushing himself along the safety-roughened bottom with his stump, much like Kuki had poled their flatboat along the shallower stretches of Gitchy. He bumped into the head end of the duck and flipped over to float on his back. All the aches in his body left him; it was his mind that would not still. Yellow eyes ... not like the yellow-eyed fish on Trow, whose unblinking gaze led him to the surface and to life, the eyes harbored by Artoo spoke of death and perhaps something worse. He sat up to wash his hair, no longer awkward with doing so one-handed. After a plunge to rinse and a brisk toweling, he wrapped his outer robe about himself as a bathrobe substitute. _This night isn't right for telling Padmé about my future living arrangements. Tomorrow morning, before I leave ... I know, it will be a doorknob moment ... _It would be the third step of his kata. Would it be better to tell her right before leaving, or set up a date to tell her ... the further off the announcement, the more Anakin liked it. But Obi-Wan and the Force, they deserved better. Padmé would just have to learn new things. Maybe the things that Obi-Wan had done for him the other night, Padmé could learn to do. It wouldn't be difficult, and of course he would oblige her in the same fashion._ But we've never even talked about it, and something about tonight is telling me 'no' ..._ Placing his mechno-arm in the cabinet under the sink for the night after wrapping it in a plush towel, Anakin opened the fresher door.

Padmé sat before her vanity, undoing her coif. She had no expression on her face at all as she mechanically brushed her hair, stroke after stroke. The curls shone in the soft glowglobe's illumination from the torchiere in the corner. It was the only light in the room. The pink stretchy material of her evening ensemble outlined her breasts enticingly. Anakin grinned and stood behind her elegantly-carved stool. He planted a hand on one breast, seeking her eyes in the mirror. She looked down at his hand, but otherwise didn't react. She continued brushing her hair worriedly. Anakin squeezed her breast, flicking at its tip beneath the thin material. The rosy tip that he had laved happily for many minutes at a time remained as flaccid as his cock. Anakin glanced at his hand and back again to Padmé in the mirror; her head was canted far to the side as she continued brushing. She squinched her eyes as her hairbrush snagged a mat of curls, but the pain was shortlived. By the time she opened her eyes, Anakin had gone to bed.

The river mused.

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	76. Chapter 76

Part Seventy-Six

"You. And Obi-Wan."

Anakin drank the last of his caf. He wiped his lips on her elegant napkin and placed it beside her elegant table setting. He steepled his hands. How to explain this to a non-Force sensitive? Padmé had not a whit of truly understanding the sense of surety he enjoyed with every breath. "Yes. Trow showed me so much. If you could only know the Force, Padmé, you'd know this is real and true. My vision showed me how Master and I are meant to be together always, or something terrible will take place." He was no closer to discerning the meaning of the fog and the bridge and the meanness of Obi-Wan, but that didn't bother him. The pervading feel of a sick occurrence just over the event horizon in his vision had not left him.

Padmé only stared. "You. And Obi-Wan."

"_Yes. _I know this is a shock, but it's for the best. Won't you think about it? We'll work something out, I'm sure of it." It was important that he not sweat.

Padmé rose and clasped her elbows in her hands, prowling into the sitting room. "What do you expect me to say, Anakin? _My husband_ loves his Master more than he loves me --- "

"Not true! Padmé, I love both of you. I, I follow the will of the Force in this --- "

" --- which told you all those years ago that you and I would marry. Or rather that _you_ would marry _me._ Some difference, I think."

Anakin moved from the doorway of the kitchen into the sitting room and spread his mechno-hand out to her, but she wrenched away, her morning robe falling open. He dropped his hand to his side, wishing he could switch percentages of natural body to mechno-body, so that ninety per cent of him could be unfeeling circuits and ten per cent could be liable to heartbreak. "I'm n-not certain it _was_ the Force when I was nine. I think it was simply me. You were lovely and rare and precious on Tatooine." _My kata is so __**difficult.**_ "I love you both now. I want you both in my life. Tell me how I can have that. Padmé, _please._" _I bought __**both**__ pairs of shoes in the mirage I saw by Gitchy. The vendor had red stiletto pumps and Jedi boots ... white boots, soft, sueded things I've never seen at the Quartermaster's ... _"Please."

"Anakin! It's not easy being married, and now you want to make it _worse_?" _Is Palpatine spying right now?_ Padmé regarded her vase filled with flameflowers. _Tampered with? Spychips in their pistils, their stamens? _She laughed harshly. _Get a grip. You knew they loved each other. They are __**always**__ together, except when Ani --- Anakin --- is with you. And how rare that is. And how you do like your breathing room._ "Anakin, if this is what you want, all right. I'll give it ... six months' trial. After that, we'll see." _Mama and Papa and Sola, I do have 'someone special' in my life. A special pain._

"You'll see. It will work out." Anakin couldn't bear the ensuing hurtful silence. He switched on the holocomm to audio only, the Diurnal Dron's Drive Time Download show and was startled to hear sobbing from ever-giggling Dron.

"He - He w-was the only Chancellor some of us have ever known, so dedicated to us all ... it's not right, he was so young ... " Anakin switched over to a visual feed, Coruscant Today. An image of Chancellor Palpatine filled the holocomm's screen along with the date of his birth and _this year's date?_ Palpatine is _dead? _His friend, mentor to all non-Jedi aspects of life? He sat down, crushed. Padmé sank into the sofa beside him.

"Chancellor Palpatine, our dedicated leader, died some time last night in a freak power surge accident. He was discovered this morning by his oldest staffmember, also a confidant from Naboo. She called for emergency aid immediately and tried herself to resuscitate her fellow citizen, but he had perished." Professional attitudes deserted the announcer and her voice hitched. "Our Supreme Chancellor was, as many times before, spending the night alone" --- Padmé looked down guiltily --- "working in his office reviewing a security protocol. Protecting us, in his l-last conscious deed. Palpatine of Naboo, we will miss you."

Tears coursing down his cheeks, Anakin sobbed, "I gave him a ride around the city in our Courier th-three weeks ago. He needed a break, he said. He was so worn out, Padmé --- "

Padmé pressed Anakin's head on her shoulder. "Yes. Worn out. He was old, Anakin. It's the same with all of us. It's the war that's worn us out." She lay her cheek on his silky spikes.

"How will we go on?" _My friend, my selfless friend ..._

She cleared her throat. "We will go on, Anakin. Procedures are in place to transfer power in these situations." _My colleague. Not that I trusted him lately, but ... an old Naboo colleague. _She held Palpatine's friend gently, spying the droid-destroying chip on the caf table and thinking hard.

The river planned.

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	77. Chapter 77

Part Seventy-Seven

"Terrible news, Padawan Skywalker." The SP-4 droid's vocoder held no inflection. "Our sympathies on the loss of your friend."

Anakin figured his puffed eyes and downturned mouth alerted the droid's empathy-interface chip. He'd not had the inclination to self-heal this morning. It seemed to diminish the Chancellor somehow. "Thanks. It was a loss for the galaxy." He gathered himself a moment. "This chip I need to have analyzed: material, origin, purpose. It was found on Coruscant, but could be from illegal manufacturing, possibly from Nar Shaddaa. I'll wait." _What a night on the town. Sometime today I need to see Obi-Wan and tell him ... tell him what? Not about Padmé, not about my lies. Tell him I need to talk about Palpatine, I guess. _

"Understood." The SP-4 went into total droid mode, retrieving the chip from the input slot, bathing it in a stasis light that would hold clean all evidence touching the chip, while allowing analyzing techniques to envelop it. Anakin watched the SP-4 walk away to the bowels of the Analysis Room. He sat down to wait, placing the parcel containing his anniversary gift under his seat. He grimaced sourly as he kicked it further out of sight. _My kata might never be completed._

"Padawan Skywalker, your requested fire damage investigation is ready to be appended to your Trow mission report." Another SP-4, identical to the first, addressed him in the same flat voice.

Anakin rubbed his jaw. "My what --- oh, the cause of the fire. Yeah, sure." So much had happened since Trow; the agreement with Strenghis had been nine days ago. Long enough for the Republic's teachers to have arrived, and Dimmie and Beebar to have returned home with them, if they so chose. Time enough for the retrieval team to locate the Courier in Gitchy's cold depths and begin to analyze the cause of the unusually tenacious fire that pierced the bulkheads of their craft. He shook his head, having trouble focusing, but he soldiered on. "All right. Give me a copy and a datapad." The slot produced the necessary items and Anakin sat down again to read. After ten minutes, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "SP-4, when did this report come to you?"

"0800 today."

"You've analyzed it?"

"Affirmative."

"There was an _accelerant_ used?"

"Affirmative."

"It's a common one, most often used for insurance fraud arson?"_ I need Obi-Wan's detecting skills on this one._

"Affirmative. There were remnants of a delayed-action timer attached to the melted container, which was labeled in an obscure Huttese code 'Undetectotane.' 'Undetectotane' _is_ mostly undetectable. What was inside the container were not 'Undetectotane' traces; it was a more common accelerant called 'Flame-On.'"

_Cheated. Whoever sabotaged our Courier was cheated._ The throbbing dull pain that had begun with a stiff neck spread to his tired eyes. Why would someone sabotage their Courier? Was the damage even meant for them and/or their mission? The Courier was a generic vehicle, used by Jedi for all ranges of security, from delivering foodstuffs to groundquake victims to ferrying small groups of visiting dignitaries. It made little sense for Black Sun or the Separatists to target this one. Something more personal? _Well, Obi-Wan and I did almost die in it. And I am the Chosen One. Was __**I**__ the target of the CIS or specifically, Dooku? Could some agent of the Sith be after Master in revenge for the Zabrak who killed Master Qui-Gon?_ His brain dulled by grief, Anakin thumbed his signature on the report. Twenty minutes of apathy followed. He'd skipped his dawn meditation this morning and it showed.

"Report on the chip complete, Padawan Skywalker. You look fatigued; would you care for some water?" This droid had a fussing subroutine similar to Threepio's.

_Water. Water goblets._ Anakin shook his head as he trudged up to the window. "Go ahead."

"Analysis: Incomplete. Origin: Unknown, possibly Hutt world or colony due to Huttese codes. Material: Standard from any manufacturer, no significant variation in method of production. Purpose: Implant Huttese coding for conversion of standard droid programming to 'spy' mode upon input of chip in conjunction with subversion of partner droid's subroutines, to act in collusion with as implementer/enabler of transmission of information in the form of visual/audio clips upon triggering mechanism of key words and/or actions."

Artoo and Threepio, spies in Padmé's --- and his --- household. "What key words or actions?" It couldn't be anything too obvious, such as "My committee had a meeting with the Chancellor today and he funded all our requests" or "I hear Orto's minister is taking bribes." It would be something more subtle than "bribes," or "Chancellor," or "funded." Was Padmé right in thinking this was another assassination attempt, using the droids as spies to discover her travel plans or daily habits? Adrenaline chased away part of his headache. "_What_ key words or actions?" he repeated.

The SP-4's vocoder spewed in a relentless monotone "darling, beloved, honeybunch, honey, sweetheart, no do it this way, sugarlips, angel, stud, big boy, sugardaddy, playtime, fuck me, harder, don't stop now, to the right, to the left, down front, faster, rub it, kiss it, kiss me, ooooooh, softer, I'm coming, oh Mama, more, baby, that's so good, wow, what are you doing, are you nearly there, my big man, my little man, my own sweetiepie, my you're big, suck it, put in the power converters first before you switch it on --- "

"Stop!" Anakin choked out hoarsely. "And --- the actions?"

"I shall verbally produce the Huttese binary code translations: sheets rustling, creaking bedsprings, in conjunction with room lights on or room lights off, tapping of furniture against wall structure or flooring, indistinct thumping from neighboring dwelling accompanied by muffled shouting. There are some obscure references to actions outside my database. Would you care to translate them for me?"

_If only I could Force-suggest that you forget all this. This day could only get worse if I discovered that the droids had been spying when I last had sex with Padmé, umm, oh yeah, the same day that I gave the Chancellor his ride around Galactic City ... oh, Chancellor ... _"No. I would not. And give me that chip. Place your findings under my security code, my eyes only. Top priority. Oh, and thanks." _I need Obi-Wan._

The river blushed.

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	78. Chapter 78

Part Seventy-Eight

There was nothing in Yoda's eight hundred-year-plus existence that had been more worth waiting for than this council meeting. He had insisted upon the complete group. He looked around the council chamber at his assembled fellows, actual attendance seven out of twelve with five flickers of blue from holo-emitters, each locked in a brief meditation for calm before beginning the session in the wake of this morning's shocking news. _Good, this death was. Why? And why is young Obi-Wan exuding happiness in such amounts? Solemn, too solemn, his character always has been. Something has changed inside for him._ As one, the council looked to Yoda, meditations complete. Yoda passed a small holo-emitter along to Plo Koon on his right. It displayed the latest holonews on the death, including the autopsy report placing its time within minutes. For a meeting of this import, it was imperative that all members have access to the same pertinent data. The off-planet members held their own holo-emitters with individual feeds, giving an odd double effect of a hologram observing a hologram. Plo Koon shifted his gaze one time to Obi-Wan, then jerked his attention back to Yoda. It was almost unseemly. "Felt yesterday, I did, a tremendous event in the Force," Yoda began. "This morning we know what it was." The council nodded, serious expressions on each face or emanating from their Force signature if faces weren't visible. Yoda lifted his gimer stick and lay it across his knees, rubbing the width of it with one hand in a polishing motion. "Good, this event was."

"Master?" Mace was the first to speak coherently. "Are you well?"

"Well, I am. Mostly lifted, the cloud from the dark side is. Palpatine's death has done this. Gathered together, we are, to understand." Yoda heard his own voice say the words and knew he had to lead today's discussion personally. "Begin with the positive about the departed, we shall, by saying that Palpatine was friendly to the Jedi, always. His politics and _himself_, overstretching his authority. Gone badly for the Republic in general, despite the clones, despite Palpatine's extra powers, the war has." All in the room thought of crechemates, clanmates and even friends whom they would never again pass in the Temple hallways.

Oppo Rancisis concurred. "Our victories have been few and hard-won. The speed of the CIS' production of droids has been a factor I have learned not to ignore. We could be overwhelmed." It was a humid day in Coruscant's manufactured climate and the hirsute Thisspiasian clawed at his frizzy beard.

"Your strategies are all that have saved us, Master Rancisis," Mace avowed, glancing once at the holo-emitter and passing it along. "Without you, we would have relied on outdated ploys even more."

Rancisis bowed gracefully, sinuously. The end of his tail twitched in that way that he had of showing pleasure. "My thanks. But returning to our main discussion, Palpatine's emergency powers could have led to abuses." Yoda snorted. "Even more abuses, I mean. If _I_ were in a battle to control the Senate and by extension our galaxy, this is a tactic I would use." Rancisis folded his long-nailed hands.

Obi-Wan spoke up. "Master Windu and Master Yoda, the Sith Zabrak on Naboo inspired no such ecstasy as you described when he died, although I was only a Padawan and may not have been able to sense it." _He left me happy when I bisected him; that is, until I sensed Qui-Gon's fading Force signature. Then I thought that I would never be happy again, but I was wrong._

Yoda pointed one ear in Obi-Wan's direction. "Underrate yourself you do, young Obi-Wan. Greater your connection to the Living Force lately, I sense" --- _how? and why?_ --- "yet even back then, actually witnessing a Sith master's taint passing you would have perceived." Yoda paused to give his next words the import they demanded. "The Zabrak, the Sith apprentice must have been. Yesterday the Sith master was no more. Yesterday Palpatine died. Coincidence?" He turned his ears downwards to protect them from the tumult which followed.

"Master!"

"Think what you are saying!" The cerulean Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned so far back in his seat that the holo-transmitter aboard his transport deleted the top of his head.

"I know that I distrust politicians, but --- "

// Kel Dor flare of disbelief // Plo Koon covered his tri-ox mask with his hand in embarrassment at his lapse in telepathic shielding.

Even the sizzling blue of the holograms surged in an analog of dismay. Yoda gave his colleagues' consternation the respect it deserved. "Shocking, such a notion. Return to our meditations for calm, we must." The room hushed, its occupants' quest for understanding leading them down unused paths to seek a united conclusion. "Time of Palpatine's demise matches," said Yoda carefully.

"He'd always shown a great interest in Anakin," muttered Obi-Wan.

"The Chosen One would make a prime target for a Sith," agreed Adi Gallia in staticky blue resolution. She twirled one of the tendrils in her Tholoth headdress thoughtfully.

"I never liked him," stated Plo Koon. The others turned in their seats. "But then, I don't like most beings. Don't _dislike_ them either," he mumbled.

Mace's face wore its heartfelt smile no longer. "Could this be? We're not dark-sighted as we were. This might be the Council's epiphany _today_" --- he looked at each member directly in turn --- "that pierces the last few shrouding shadows."

"Count Dooku's black character veils my sight to a degree," sighed Yoda. "Yet now shot through with the Light my vision is. Disappointed, Dooku will be to learn his evil is not all-enveloping. Always wanted the best, he did."

Obi-Wan pushed the robes from his shoulders and stood up. "Master Yoda, everyone, given these circumstances, I believe we ought to consult my Pa--- " Obi-Wan broke off and clutched his right arm to his chest, dropping the holo-emitter. He closed his lips upon a cry as tightly as he closed his end of the training bond.

The river gasped.

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	79. Chapter 79

Part Seventy-Nine

Anakin slumped into the most uncomfortable seat he could find in the map room. He had chosen the hard plasticine deliberately. The holo-emitter had taken only a few minutes to reconfigure into displaying the ongoing Holonews coverage of Palpatine's death. All news feeds showcased his political career, if they didn't highlight his early life or his committed patronage of the arts. A musical play even now was in the early stages of discussion. Based upon his coming to prominence during the Naboo crisis, a tentative working title was _Power's Purity of Purpose._ Anakin thought the word 'purity' implied a morally cleaner meaning than the rest of the words in the title, and that on the whole it needed more work. One-word titles like _Naboo!_ were easier to remember. He supposed an opera would be commissioned next.

Palpatine had listened to opera on their last ride together, in the soon-to-be-refurbished Courier fished out of Gitchy. "Let's just listen to music and fly, Anakin. We'll talk another time." But there had been no more time afterwards for their leisurely conversations filled with reminiscences and projections for Anakin's future, Anakin reflected sadly. Palpatine had wanted Anakin to be sophisticated about music after giving up on nurturing his acting talent when Anakin was fourteen. "Acting is simply not your forte, Anakin." The Padawan Follies in his thirteenth year convinced Anakin of that fact; he had started out with a one-line part, but the Master directing the production quickly sought his aid in lighting and on the soundboard and claimed on opening night that Anakin was more valuable behind the scrim than in front of it. Secretly pleased not to be center of attention, Anakin told Obi-Wan that he was more interested in the mechanical aspects of drama and Obi-Wan dropped his plans to speak to the Master director about the change in cast. He made certain that Anakin was included in the holopics of the event, however.

The afternoon wore on and when the coloratura sopranos and baritenors reached their thrilling peak of perfection in the twenty-second act, Palpatine broke his silence. "Anakin, I don't feel well. Would you be a good lad and fetch me a drink of water?"

"Of course, sir. I'll amp up the inertial dampers, too; we'll smooth out our flight pattern soon."

When Anakin returned to the cockpit with the water, Palpatine suddenly put a hand to his mouth and dashed to the rear of the craft towards the 'fresher. He spent some time in there, and when Anakin sympathetically asked through the door if he could help in any way, there was a mysterious drilling sound before Palpatine emerged, blowing his nose and smiling self-deprecatingly. "Too many banquets, my boy, too much rich food. What I wouldn't give for some simple Naboo cuisine at some of those tedious functions." Anakin flew slowly back to the Senate district, engendering countless angry klaxons and frustrated looks from their fellow travelers. Palpatine put his indisposition nobly aside and for the rest of the ride listened quietly to the thunderous finale, smiling intently at Anakin in a musical reverie while he placed both hands in his pockets and moved rhythmically in place to the composer's lively beat. At the crescendo, he appeared transported to an intellectual plane far beyond Anakin's ken, then relaxed as if the entire experience had drained him. Anakin had to help him stand when they reached their destination. He had never been in awe of the Chancellor more in his life than he had been on that ride._ Where will I meet another friend with his cosmopolitan tastes who has the patience to mentor me? _Anakin promised himself not to forget any of the Chancellor's lessons and to teach his own apprentice someday about the complexities of life in a galaxy that could produce a Palpatine.

One feed had a simple display of Palpatine's bust and dates only. Anakin surveyed his friend's features and washed away all subtext from his perception with the Force. What was left was a plain face, slightly on the homely side. Hours of soothing companionship in the man's company made him blink back tears and swallow hard. When he had left his scramball team in midseason, Palpatine had comforted him. "Save your strength for the academic side of your studies, young Anakin," he'd advised warmly. "Your team will get along without you well enough." In retrospect, it didn't sound as compassionate as he remembered. Generally, the people of Naboo impressed him with their warm-heartedness.

_Naboo._ Padmé came from that gorgeous, water-drenched place. What was the meaning of the droids' objective in their spying attempts? Why hadn't she been as supportive of his plans with Obi-Wan as he'd anticipated her to be? She had received nothing but the Jedi Order's great regard since Naboo. _More than regard,_ he snorted. _She's gotten their --- our --- ever-present help with her very existence._ After Anakin had dispatched the kouhuns, Obi-Wan had leaped out a window to apprehend her attackers. _What a moment that was. I hadn't an inkling that he'd do that._ But their bond was different now. Would he know his Master's intentions better? He sighed at the turns his life had taken this morning and opened a section of his training bond. _A little taste of Obi-Wan, that's what I need._ Nothing. He opened a wider port, still hoping to slip in under Obi-Wan's notice without alarming him with his neediness. Nothing. Alarmed himself now, he rose, gathering his robes tightly in his hands. Frowning and closing his eyes, he opened their bond fully. There. A thread of it appeared, tarnished with pain. Anakin sprang through Palpatine's rotating image to the door and vanished down the hall. He Force-leaped down the steps, bounding past the bank of windows, following the Force-imprint of Obi-Wan to the infirmary. Inside the maproom, Palpatine played to an audience that had fled.

The river stormed.

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	80. Chapter 80

Part Eighty

Pain control technique number one: The pain exists. Obi-Wan hadn't any doubt that his right fingers, palm, wrist, forearm, elbow and part of his upper arm twitched in spasming jerks, synapses aflame with no relief. Pain control technique number two: The pain can be conquered. Obi-Wan visualized his arm as it was in the salle yesterday at dawn, swinging his lightsaber in paraphs and jagged zigzags, partly to get a rise out of Anakin over his flowery technique. Anakin had been distracted, however, and only gave a twisted half-grin in his direction. Obi-Wan tucked away the memory of even that small smile as he waited for the pain medicine to take effect. Like his efforts to reduce his headache upon arrival from Trow, his pain control techniques were in need of a helping hand. Luminara knew about helping.

"Obi-Wan, I sense nothing similar to a pinched nerve or muscle damage in your arm. When the medicine takes you out of your immediate distress, I will drift deeper into the source of your pain along your neural pathways. Relax now. We've put your usual hypoallergenic analgesic mix into the drip. You'll feel better soon." Luminara placed Obi-Wan's tunics and boots into a small locker at the end of the cot. She squeezed his foot through the blankets. "Let's try something holistic until the stuff works." Peeling back the bedclothes from one corner, she rubbed his bare right foot before squeezing the ball of the foot with her strong fingers. He almost flinched from the power of it. He knew that foot pressure on the same side of the body as the affliction helped soothe the nerve endings along the pained area.

"It's some better, Lu. Not burning so much." She creased the corners of her eyes in sympathy.

"More. I can do more." She rolled the knuckles of one hand back and forth along the instep while pressing firmly on the top of his foot, creating a distracting pressure. Whether it was from this or from the beginning of a response to the drugs, Obi-Wan's face relaxed and he lay deeper into his pillow. His spacer's tan contrasted sharply with the short white smock that Luminara made all her human patients wear and also with the crisp white sheets of the cot. His eyelids drooped to half-shut and he barely reacted when Anakin burst into the room.

"Master! What's happened? Our bond, you shut it down almost all the way, did you think I'd not notice" --- _they're dripping orange stuff into him with that shunt on his hand, not the numb one from the other day, no, the good one --- _"speak to me, say _something, _please" --- _is it possible for this day to get worse?_

"_'Shomethin',_ darlin'." The corners of Obi-Wan's mouth lifted in a weak grin. He closed his eyes all the way.

"You, ah, you don't know what you're saying, Master. Um, Master Lu, what's wrong with him?" Anakin had said these words more often than he ever wanted to or expected to. Allergies, freckling, prone to sunburn, bad sinuses, Master was extremely high-maintenance, yet entirely worth the trouble.

"He had a sudden onset of severe arm pain in the council chambers, Master Yoda said when he escorted him in. It was directly after a particularly important decision had been reached, I don't know what. I couldn't find anything wrong immediately and started a drip to relieve the pain. He's not out all the way; he can hear us. How did you know where to find him so quickly? This happened only ten minutes ago." Luminara turned her blue eyes on Anakin in her usual perceptive manner, the same one from their session the other day. Anakin thought quickly.

"We Force-imprinted on each other on the way back from Trow because Master thought it wise to use Master Koon's technique because we might get into another survival situation sometime and be split up and of course it would be good to locate each other if necessary and why are you looking at me like that?" To a non-Force sensitive, she hadn't changed expression, but to Anakin, her eyes widened slightly and her jaw dipped almost imperceptibly. Still regarding him steadily, she took a moment to reply.

"Master Koon's technique calls for physical closeness, a caressing, if you will, and supreme confidence in one's partner. Anyone conducting such an imprinting in the Force becomes almost bound physically to the partner for life. It's, well, controversial." She didn't say so, but Anakin caught the undercurrent of disapproval in her manner.

_We were bored on the trip. There wasn't much else to do, since Dimmie and Beebar were in our pockets day and night. _"Master thought it was a good idea." He gazed back at her almost defiantly.

"Baby," Obi-Wan whispered. "Shweet baaaayyybeeeee." He made little kissing noises in Anakin's direction without opening his eyes. "Closher. Wan' closher. Don' be tease, baaayyybeeee." He moved his right arm a few centimeters. "_Owww."_

"I'll up the dosage. He's still in pain." Luminara adjusted the drip with a small twist of a dial. She placed two fingers on Obi-Wan's right wrist so lightly that only the hairs were pressed to the skin. "Better now. I'll give him a while longer to adjust. No need to stress him." She turned to Anakin. "This procedure works best if no one else is nearby, particularly someone emotionally close" --- _did she emphasize the word 'close' slightly --- _"so please wait outside, Anakin. He's out all the way now." She had been their Healer for so many years that Anakin had complete confidence in her. He couldn't stop himself from babbling, however.

"Eh, about babies, Master must have been thinking about Trow. We stayed at a village with lots of babies, in fact during a time when everyone was concerned with making more babies and Master likes younglings, you know that, Master Lu, so it's natural that he would be thinking about them subconsciously since we just left Trow a few days ago and" --- _clear away this speeder wreck now, Anakin --- _"erm, that's why he said the word 'baby.' I guess. I don't know, though."

Luminara tilted her head and placed a hand on his flesh elbow in an ushering-along gesture. "Go now. You need to take care of yourself, too, Anakin. I'm sorry to hear about your friend Palpatine. It must have been a blow."

For a second, Anakin lost his center. Dealing with Padmé this morning, Palpatine soon after that, and now Obi-Wan lying so still in front of him, swamped his control and his lower lip quivered. He drew a deep breath before speaking. "Thank you. It's been a rough day. I'll wait in your office."_ I can commune with the fish. They're safe to be with, because I don't care about them._

The river dissembled.

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	81. Chapter 81

Part Eighty-One

Yoda activated his hoverchair's double kickstand and parked it in its usual recharging slot outside the council chamber. He stretched out his back again with a grunt and shuffled through the large doors, clacking his gimer stick more than usual against the marble slabs. There was an uproar going on inside completely unlike the council's usual deliberations. He blanked his mind to it and paced back and forth in front of his seat. Eventually the voices stilled and he sensed that all were observing his unusual display of nerves. _Look, they shall. Not see me like this again for another century, at least. If live that long, I do._ He waited until their minds were as still as they could be, given the galaxy-shaking circumstances.

As Yoda had expected, Mace was the first to speak. "Master, how is Obi-Wan?"

"Unknown. In good care, he is. None better than our Healer Unduli. Wait until she contacts us, we shall." He pounded his stick upon the floor to focus their attention, making Adi Gallia jump even though she was far away on Corellia. Her holotransmitter was having trouble following her agitated movements as she, too, paced.

"Not a Dark Side attack?" Gallia was off-planet and so had to rely on the attendees' local Force-perceptions and not her own. It said much about her that she overlooked mundane physical causes of distress and thought first of the Force. She recouped her strength in her great talents of piloting and intuition while visiting her homeworld on leave, but her intuition was off today. Ever since she had learned that her friend, Qui-Gon Jinn, succumbed to a practitioner of the Dark Side's arts, she saw the Dark Side in many more things than were realistic. Her friends were aware of this and had steered her gently to soul Healer Regork. She had standing monthly appointments with him and claimed that he had helped her tremendously. It was nearly the end of the month and time again for her appointment. After this council session concluded, Yoda meant to remind her privately about it. Most likely, she could handle it by hologram. Regork's disposition and vocation made him extremely flexible that way.

"No, Master Gallia. Far away from home you are and perhaps this great event seems remote. Continue your leave, you shall." _Need one, you do. _Yoda saw that he ought to stand in for Regork. "Sit down, please. Nervous, you make me." He knew enough about soul Healing to deflect commenting on the patient and take on any blame himself. It worked. Gallia sat, twiddling her tendrils again. Yoda harrumphed. "Back to our conclusions. Make use of your meditations, did you all, and think as I do in this?" He looked around the chamber; each aura was a flat gray, a mixture of disbelief at their own blindness and confusion for the future of the Republic. Yoda wondered how he looked to them.

Mace had changed his firm stance in his personal views that had bordered on stubbornness. This revelation would impact his revered Republic in ways yet unknown. Yoda thought he almost looked sick. "That we, that the entire _Republic_, trusted this, this, _huchup"_ --- Yoda assumed this was an unflattering Korunnal term --- "to lead us, years upon years without anyone the wiser, who knows what long-term programs he's embedded in our government, the Sith have enormous patience, although I wouldn't call _anything_ a virtue with them --- "

"To think that I voted for him!" Plo Koon shook his head. "Couldn't stand him, but his political talents wouldn't be denied, Master Yoda, the way he brought us all together with his masterly, I mean modest, dealings, an alliance here, a handclasp there ... " Plo abruptly realized that he had broken the unwritten rule about revealing one's personal voting record and slapped his mask into his palm. Not one of his fellows could blame him. They were remembering how many times Palpatine had visited the Temple with his security retinue mapping entrances and exits, for protection purposes only, and how many times he had appeared on the Holonews, reasonably explaining that he was a hands-on leader who disliked delegating and so would the Senate consider it fit to allow him access to the top committees, merely to observe ...

"Move on, we shall. Obi-Wan's suggestion, good it was. Skywalker we will interview when his Master's condition stabilizes and he can stand before us with his Padawan, as is proper. For now, within these walls let the knowledge of Sidious' identity remain. Not even fellow Jedi will we tell." Yoda had been taken aback by the number of Jedi either openly sympathetic to Dooku's rhetoric about secession from the Republic or actually turning their backs on their loyalties to the Temple, the symbol of their upbringing._ Far from the Light Side, some of us are. All of us with the same schooling, the same ideals, for countless years! Worked hard, I did, to influence young minds without warping them. Centuries of work._ The Chosen One, now. Influenced by his parentage, his harsh environment, he still managed to become a loyal Padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Troubled and rebellious at times, he lacked the conniving quality of a Xanatos DeCrion whose Fall had broken Qui-Gon Jinn's spirit for so long. _Wealthy, Xanatos was. Humble bastard, Skywalker is._ Of Skywalker's paternal origins, Yoda couldn't tell. It didn't seem relevant eleven years ago, and it didn't seem relevant now. The young man who had struggled in his academic lessons while gliding sublimely along in his Force abilities training might hold a key to unlocking Palpatine's --- no, Sidious' --- black heart. If Palpatine/Sidious had lived, Yoda realized, it might have taken a platoon of Jedi to arrest him, drugs to subdue him, and a planetoid to imprison him on. With an eternal guard. _Want that job, I would not._

As a tactician supreme, Oppo Rancisis knew the value of ending a meeting on a less serious note. "Are we having our Republic Day Annual Picnic in the gardens again? It's coming up in five weeks, beings. The groundskeepers protested last year that their newly-planted trees were trampled by our visitors enjoying the Open Temple Tour we have that same day. There were two fruit trees in the very heart of the garden that were extremely rare. One particularly long-lived tree will not bear fruit until the next decade because of its damage. I was looking forward to offering some of its fruit to the tertiary wife of the new Blood Monarch of Thisspias, who will be visiting us with his entourage for the Open Temple Tour even though he and I have agreed to disagree on issues. His tertiary wife, who is my second cousin once removed, is a botanist and she has been posting me some charming paintings of swamp apples that she renders herself in pastels which I have decorated my terrarium walls with ... " Even Yoda looked bored at the end of Rancisis' story, but at least he, along with the others, had something else to think about other than the Dark Side.

The river adjourned.

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	82. Chapter 82

Part Eighty-Two

This was bad, this was bad. Luminara skimmed Obi-Wan's ganglia, synapses, and neurons all the way down to the dendrites and there was not a thing organically wrong with him. _Could the pain be psychosomatic?_ Delicate as he was physically --- she never used the word 'delicate' to Obi-Wan or to Anakin or even to Barriss in confidence; 'hypersensitive' was the correct Healer's term --- her friend had one of the strongest psyches she'd ever seen in her practice. Healer Regork was more the expert, however; Luminara found the ephemeral nature of soul Healing unsatisfying, though she admitted it only to herself. Regork had cured eleven year-old Barriss of her aversion to swimming in two twenty-minute sessions involving blaster-soakers and the game of tag. Surfing Obi-Wan's brain, but avoiding his consciousness because she was not telepathic, she tested the pain center for misfires. There were none. His pain center signaled steady waves of pain like solar flares, twisting and leaping. _But what is the stimuli? _Obi-Wan whimpered, coming out of his stupor entirely too soon. _This is bad. It's bad that I've not found the source of his pain. It will be that much harder to treat._ She withdrew slowly, augmenting her retreat with as much balm as she could, settling on the diagnosis of post-traumatic psychosomatic disorder, going over her findings for surety. Could Trow have affected him this much? A survival situation, his Padawan as well as his mission in danger, might impress Obi-Wan subconsciously into a pain reaction. He and Anakin became closer on Trow, Obi-Wan had said. Could his Padawan's missing arm and the trauma causing it be somehow mapped onto him, now that they had Force-imprinted? _Obi-Wan, you're due for some soul Healer sessions with me. _If they fail, Master Plo Koon's telepathic help might be called for. Luminara hoped not, though. Plo could be an ass at times.

"Uhhhh, _mmmmnnn_owwwtch ... huh ... 's gone? No hurts ... good work, Lu ... thanks ... " Obi-Wan spoke without opening his eyes. Luminara held his hands in hers to comfort him as he roused and to give herself the illusion that she had accomplished more than she had. She leaned her head close to Obi-Wan's to speak softly into his ear, her cowl acting as a megaphone. This state of limbo-awareness was tricky; he may not remember what he said or what she said when he returned to full consciousness.

"The pain is better?" Simply by holding hands, she could access his level of tension. It was non-existent; the man was loose as a lantern bird. When she had withdrawn, the pain still marked his aura with red lightning streaks. In the seconds since then, the pain had vanished. _Yes, psychosomatic. Another addition to his file. I'll need to add more memory to it now._

He was rapidly coming out of it. "'S gone, gone, gone. R'mind me t' be y'r slave at th' Picnic, bring you plate of nerfburgers, carry y'r 'mbrella, refill y'r glass w'bubblezap, 'n lose to you 'n Barriss 'n the three-appendage race, 'nkin will go 'long with it ... " Obi-Wan slurred, "'nkin, whaaa ... wherrrr 's he, luvvim, y'know ... " An absurdly wide smile appeared on his face. "Luvvim, luvvim, luvluvluvvim ... "

It was as Luminara had feared could happen. Force-imprinting nearly melded the two of them into one. Love? Naturally, Obi-Wan loved his Padawan, as Luminara loved Barriss. Training them, living in the same quarters, year after year, mindful of their health, their food intake, their immunizations, their studies, their habit of comming their friends minutes after seeing them in the refectory, all conditions of the Master-Padawan relationship led into a lifelong affection. She squeezed his hands and waited for him to awaken fully.

"So I can go back to the Council meeting?" Obi-Wan said twenty minutes later. He wanted to bring Anakin and stand with him in the questioning Yoda and the others would surely conduct. He stripped off the white smock and pulled on his undergarments, no hitching of pain evident in his arm as the Healer watched his smooth movements.

Luminara saw the black rings under her friend's eyes and the strain of his pain attack still evident in his twisting hands as he pulled on his calf-molding boots. "An important meeting, I gather?"

"Yes. I can't tell you more, I'm sorry, Lu. One thing is paramount, that Anakin and I return there today." Palpatine's death, Sidious' disclosure, what could there be more important than that? Despite his bone-deep fatigue that nothing but sleep would cure, he had to follow through with this. Prolonging it would only enable Anakin's illusions of friendship with the Sith to continue. _He'll be hurt, no doubt of it. _Obi-Wan called on all his training in dispassion to release his fury over Sidious' deception to the Republic, but most personally, to his Anakin. He pulled his outer tunic closed and refastened his belt. A hand to smooth his short hair back and he was ready.

Luminara patted the bed beside her. "Sit down, Obs. I'm releasing you to your quarters, not the Council chambers." At his raised eyebrows and beginning protest, she interrupted, "No. That's the way it will be. Your diagnosis is post-traumatic psychosomatic disorder, and I'd be a poor Healer if I let you return to the site of your attack, right away at least. You can comm any information in, if it's that vital." Something to do with the war, she supposed. She was needed at New Holstice to treat the growing numbers of wounded and began to dread what she would find there. The database on treating wounded Jedi grew with each day. _That's because there are more wounded Jedi than ever before._

"You mean, I'm a _mental_? Is that what it was? Never."

She became perturbed. "Do you doubt me?"_ I'm going to request leave for him from the Council, important business or no._

Obi-Wan stared at her for a long time. "No. I feel foolish, though." He looked down at his right hand. Maybe he _did_ need a rest. "Never had anything like this happen. Even when Qui-Gon passed into the Force before my eyes. Why now?"

"Our bodies are mysteries and the mind the most mysterious part of all." This always sounded good, even though it was a platitude, and true. "I'm releasing you to Anakin's care and your quarters, and I need you to practice something for your ... condition." _Reaffirm his own identity, that's the first step._ "Repeat this after me: 'I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, Councilmember, Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Anakin Skywalker,'" she said clearly and slowly, embuing her words with the lightest touch of the Force. "'I am the Negotiator. These things are all that I need be in the Force. I do _not_ need to feel any deeper than I must to be effective, and if I do, I will not _be_ effective. For my own sake, my Padawan's, the Order's and the Force's, I scale down my body's reaction to any outside stressor" --- _Anakin, _thought Luminara with a little frown --- "until I ... can ... be ... wholly ... _myself ... _again.'" Obi-Wan looked her in the face as he repeated it, until the part about being wholly himself again. Then his eyes crinkled in an amused way. She needed to impress upon him the seriousness of his changed state.

"What? It's nothing physical, Obs, but it could be serious."

"Who else could I possibly be?" he asked, looking to her to elaborate, but she said nothing.

The river hesitated.

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	83. Chapter 83

Part Eighty-Three

"Kenobi and Padawan leave is granted. I trust your judgment, Healer Unduli. Next on agenda?"

Master Windu waited until Master Unduli completed her graceful bows and exited the chamber. "Medical leave for them _now, _Master Yoda?"

"The Sith's identity will be kept quiet. What good will be served for our cause by allowing Dooku and Grievous to know that we know? Isn't it better to leave Dooku floundering for strength to guide his forces without Sidious' help in spinning webs into plots?" Yoda had not slept since the momentous clearing of his Force-sight._ This is like old times. I will sleep later. My work comes first._ Extreme fatigue warped Yoda's speech centers and he hoped his syntax did not confuse any being. Much meditation about the length of the galaxy-wide conflict had brought him to the sad conclusion that at least two years remained. _Sidious' plans for mass confusion and divided loyalties will take time to root out. _When he sought visions of his Order, viewing their diminished ranks through the long months ahead added to his sleeplessness.

Mace refrained from commenting further about the sidelining of one of their number. Even a layperson could see that Obi-Wan's white face and spasming arm indicated more than any pulled muscle during a sparring match. He pushed for a solid piece of data to begin their work with. He couldn't seem to help himself. "Can we at least obtain a statement from Skywalker? What if his knowledge of _Sidious"_ --- Mace spat the word with great venom --- "is crucial to us?"

Yoda remained firm. "Sidious is _dead._ What was _crucial_ was that we recognized his true nature. Now we can move secretly to investigate his comms, his files. I have good relations with someone in his inner circle." The small Master slitted his eyes until he looked half-asleep.

This was news to the Council. "_How_?" Shaak Ti leaned forward, dark fathomless eyes ablaze through her blue outline. Her mondrals flared slightly as if she could ultrasonically sense them through the intervening parsecs.

"Do you remember when Senator Amidala met with us last year in the Chancellor's office?" How good it had been to see Amidala still alive. He approved of her style of politicking as he did few other Senators. She was on his short list for revealing Palpatine as Sidious, and if she moved up in her career path due to the Chancellor's death, the Republic could only benefit.

Shaak Ti smiled her slow smile. "No, Master. I was not yet on the Council."

_I __**am**__ tired. _"Hmm, yes. Indeed. Palpatine's executive assistant, Dar Wac, presided over the outer office and with an eye to future needs, I Suggested to him during our brief wait to be admitted to see the Chancellor that personal loyalty to the Jedi, myself in particular, could best serve his own interests." Yoda lifted one shoulder as if in apology for his actions. "He is one Rodian with confused loyalties, to the Chancellor, to Rodian senators, and last but most of all, to himself. I merely added one more loyalty to the mix. And placed it in first position." He tapped his claws on the arm of his seat. "He will help us."

Mace eyed the diminutive Master with more respect than he thought possible. So far-ranging was Yoda's mind, even with the darkness that had veiled it one year ago, that he had planted a spy in the Supreme Chancellor's office. "Have you ever been told you're a great sneak?" There was a telepathic snicker from Plo Koon and a gasp from Ki-Adi-Mundi, right before he subsided with a twinkle in his eye.

"Once, five centuries ago. It was, and is, true."

Though he might regret it, Mace asked, "And do you see changes to the Order in your visions?" There was one in particular he was of two minds about, which was appropriate, since the thought had been planted by the Chosen One during Skywalker's class, _Debate 301: Taking Unpopular Stances: Gaining Attention, Or Stating One's Principles?_ In a lightly-populated lecture hall during Skywalker's portion of the debate ("RESOLVED: That Attachments Lead To Greater Effectiveness As A Jedi"), the fifteen year-old had set Mace to thinking. With many looks for reinforcement in the beginning at his Master in the front row, Skywalker grew into his subject by the end of his speech, looking not at his Master but at each attendee full on with a confidence beyond his years. He was the last debater, and in the way of the Jedi, there was little applause at its conclusion. Skywalker made a single jerky bow and rejoined his Master as they filed out of the hall. Mace noticed at the time how well they walked together.

Yoda slid onto the floor and gimped over to Mace's seat, knocking his gimer stick on the Korun Master's ankles, but not too hard. "Dooku led the Annual Temple Tours for a number of years," he said, relevant to nothing.

"Master?" The sooner Master Yoda got some rest, the better. Mace's brain grew tired of processing his convoluted language. It was one more change than he could comfortably handle, these days.

"He always, always wanted the Council chambers themselves opened to the public to show them that the Jedi Council was approachable and that we did not chant in ancient Myneyrsh all day long, and burn ryll incense while whirling in midair. Some have strange notions about Jedi abilities and practices." Yoda sobered. "Perhaps Dooku was right. My vision _is_ clearer now. We should _not _appear disconnected from the rest of the galaxy. Though we work in this spire" --- he looked up at the frescoes above his head --- "this _is_ just an upper room."

Changed, the river did.

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	84. Chapter 84

Part Eighty-Four

Threepio's photoreceptors remained as black as Artoo's single orb. Now ensconced in a corner of Anakin's room, their delivery had been a thorny issue this morning.

"And _why_ is Senator Amidala giving these broken droids to you, Padawan?"

"It's a gift."

"I see." There was an ocean of confusion in Obi-Wan's eyes. "Did --- Did you tell me that they were arriving and I was absent-minded?" He chuckled at himself. "I forgot to take my memory vitamins this morning."

_Master Lu said I'd need to be proactive in his treatment, and I wasn't. Still thinking about Palpatine. Kriff. _It would have been easy for Anakin to pin any awkwardness on Obi-Wan's condition, but he refused. "No. I didn't tell you before."

"And it's a gift _because ... _" He ran a hand over Artoo's frozen dome and didn't look at Anakin directly.

" ... because Padmé knew I'd be at home for a while after our mission ended and thought I could use a project. Because she's my friend. I commed her the first night we got back, along with all my other friends." _Because Artoo __**became**__ my friend and I built Threepio to __**be**__ my friend and Mom's helper and I want __**all**__ my friends to be well, including you. Well, most of all you._

"Your friend." Anakin busied himself with his tools, surveying Artoo's barrel shape with the thrumming monitor function on his portable scanner. No activity, down to the tiniest circuit and fluidic artery. No carbon scoring, no burned wire detritus, not a thing to trace physically. This was worse than the near-terminal droids that Watto had assigned him to fix and had punished him when he could not. He was no child now, and he had developed his skills in later years and used up-to-date equipment. _All right. Run diagnostics next. _He programmed his portable scanner, wishing that the Jedi Analysis room could be called into service, but his and Padmé's secret could not come out yet. He resented their double life in a burst of frustration, offered it up to the Force and waited for the effort to take effect. It took longer than it should have. _Back to business. Those yellow eyes had to have come from somewhere. _

Obi-Wan sat on Anakin's narrow bed to watch. He was supposed to rest, but it ran against the grain. "Can I do anything?" He could handle simple repairs; this one looked far beyond his scope. He was in awe of Anakin's talents and didn't mind being the support system to any of his projects. Anakin would keep him from touching anything important. There was the Yimpian incident to consider. Obi-Wan shivered slightly.

"Nope. Maybe later." Anakin considered using the Force to diagnose Artoo, knowing there was no way to shield Obi-Wan from the knowledge of its use in such close quarters. He undid the mag-seals to Artoo's dome, placing it upside down on the carpet. He removed the clips from Artoo's primary photoreceptor and radar eye, loosening its lens, the round portal to the little droid's personality. Artoo _did_ have a personality, Anakin told himself, just as Threepio did. By random absorption of stellar radiation when he drew extra-vehicular duty, by after-market tweaking of unnamed previous tinkerers, however the transformation from factory-issue heuristics into a personality occurred, Anakin would miss Artoo if he could not repair him. And so he would access the Force to repair him if the diagnostics strategy bombed out. He didn't think Obi-Wan would call that frivolous.

_Am I up to dealing with Anakin's disillusion today? Palpatine/Sidious showed a side of life to him that I could never do._ Palpatine/Sidious always made Anakin feel better, more confident. Obi-Wan knew that he himself did not._ 'Watched his career with great interest,' my foot. That sleemo lured my Padawan --- my Anakin! --- into his clutches by preying on the boy's feeling out-of-place ... that ... that ... _Obi-Wan called upon all his considerable discipline to guide his raging thoughts out of their red-tinged path and onto a grass-lined one beside a still pond. The Jedi path to discipline offered a good life, if a Padawan could stay on the narrow road; he so desired that Anakin could. The Jedi Service Corps offered different paths, less demanding, but less rewarding in Obi-Wan's opinion. He lay back on Anakin's narrow bed, tugging up his slippersox. _How odd not to get dressed today._ Wrapping his blue bathrobe around his chest and crossing his arms, he examined his right arm through the soft weave. In all ways, the limb felt normal.

Artoo's orb, separated from its housing, rested in Anakin's glove as a disjointed part of his little friend, a useless member of Padmé's --- and his --- household. If he could restore Artoo and Threepio to her use, she might thaw in her acceptance of his and Obi-Wan's arrangement. For that reason, and his own fondness for the droids, he persevered. _Nothing on the diagnostics. It's as if a damper on their circuits exists from an outside source. The droids can't communicate in binary what's wrong, much less move._ Anakin knew to err on the side of caution. "Master, please shield your eyes. I'm going to try something." He cupped a protective mechno-hand around the lens and fished the unmarked chip out of his robe's inner pocket. He knelt on the floor in front of his bed's footboard, turning his back to hide the chip from Obi-Wan. He was in a corner facing a blank white wall, not only in his bedroom, but in parts of his life. _Stupid. How long are you going to hold out from telling him about you and Padmé?_ Shaking his head at himself, he shoved the thought away and drew upon the Force.

Obi-Wan didn't budge. "Padawan, that sounds dangerous. As much as I like Luminara, I don't want to see her again so soon for her services. What are you planning?" _He needs the __**Force**__ for this?_

_Kriff, kriff, double-kriff, triple-kriff ... if this chip interacts with Artoo's lens and produces images corresponding to what the SP-4 spouted ... or engages Threepio's vocabulator somehow ... _For his Master's greater good, Anakin lied, "I'm going to kromitz the farkulator in Artoo's primary photoreceptor. It may make a flash, and you've been blinking your eyes a lot in bright light lately." He twisted around to look at Obi-Wan. "Please let me take care of you, Master."

"Very well. Is the flame retardant handy?"

"Yes, I recharged it after you prepared Muja Flambé and put it back in the kitchen. Bottom drawer below the oven this time, so you don't have to reach."

"Proceed, then." Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "I have all the faith in the galaxy in you, Padawan."

Anakin hurriedly reconfigured his portable scanner and aimed it at the silent Threepio, setting the scanner's range to collect any utterances by the protocol droid and store them without any outward sign. He propped it up on his toolkit to stabilize it. At Obi-Wan's words, he jerked a smile, not looking up as he turned his back again. He switched the chip to his mechno-hand and held the lens by its edges in his flesh hand, adjusting a small level of Force-protection over his hands as he brought the two slowly together.

The river sparked.

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	85. Chapter 85

Part Eighty-Five

It wasn't until the chip and Artoo's lens were one centimeter apart that anything happened. With the Force, Anakin sensed a discharge was about to occur and he braced himself against its power, sitting back on his heels rather than kneeling upright. He hunched over the lens and the chip to protect Obi-Wan, prepared for an arc, but none came. He was glad of his foresight in wearing a minuscule earbud from his portable scanner to monitor any pickups from either droid in realtime. The scanner's recordings he could study later; his first impressions might be priceless.

"OOOOooooowooooWOOOh_oooo__**ahhh**_ ... " moaned Threepio to Anakin only, a most distressing sound. Artoo's dome made a quarter-spin to the right from where it was upended by Anakin's bare left foot, Artoo's barrel body frozen before him. Anakin realized that an accelerated burst transmission was emanating from Artoo's dome and streaming to the lens, initialized by the chip in his mechno-hand in conjunction with Threepio's now-activated algorithms. He held his hand steadier with a bit more of the Force. From the lens bulged a sizzling blue outline of a lump that might have been a human form, no, it was two, and as the image coalesced poorly in only two dimensions on Anakin's own bedroom wall, he heard in his earbud the phrase, "what are you doing" followed by a whimpered "oh Mama." A profile of two partially-defined figures spread itself over the white wall.

Sick with dismay, he watched the half-meter in diameter offering in front of him. He forgot about Obi-Wan until his Master asked, "Are you nearly there?"

From unknown, untested strength, Anakin gained control of his voice. "No. A little while longer --- it's a bit tricky." Obi-Wan's words cued a vast shudder of resolution to the shivering images. Anakin made out the sounds from his earbud more clearly, too. Quiet kisses, soft moans and slick slurping sounds penetrated his stunned mind. Amid a tangle of upraised legs, he discerned a mop of curly hair, a lighter shade than dark brown or black, but not a lighter shade than medium blonde. If the being were human, that is; he could not tell. This was definitely not Padmé's hair, and from the timing that she had mentioned, it could not be his. _Besides, this is that thing that we never did. I wonder if we'll ever get a chance to, or if I even want to._ He watched a moment more and turned away. The visual transmission from Artoo's dome ended when he put the lens in his toolkit and shut its lid with numb fingers. His earbud continued to whimper, but now an overarching voice intruded, building to a male's deeper timber. " ... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... marvelous ... " said the voice in a headache-inducing loop, and as Anakin rocked back on his heels to slump against the footboard, he recognized the voice as Palpatine's. It was the same tone and words the Chancellor had used to exclaim over the opera's finale during their last Courier ride around Galactic City. Anakin opened his legs at a wide angle and leaned his head back with a thump against the footboard, clenching the unmarked chip in his flesh hand, not daring to put it in his powerful right one.

xxxxx

"Are you nearly there?" Obi-Wan felt the need for a rest and reclined, laying his head on Anakin's pillow. Through his eyelids, he saw the afternoon sun's red power infiltrate the room's open but completely privacy-screened window. A surge of joy slipping through their bond had prompted Obi-Wan to ask his question, followed by what he thought he had heard Anakin mumble: "Just _wait_ till I tell P--- ", but that part seemed to have been his imagination. Anakin slammed up shields as strongly as he had in Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's commons. They had nothing to do with him shielding his own physical pain from his Master and everything to do with privacy. At Anakin's response to his question, Obi-Wan turned onto his side, drawing up his knees. _Still shielding so strongly, my own Padawan? Do you need for me to tell you that I love you for your smile, your dedication to the Order and to me? I think you are ready for me to tell you why I love you ... today. Yes, today. We have the leisure. Today would be good._ Anakin needed something to cushion the blow of revelation about Palpatine. Obi-Wan figured that Anakin's shields just now involved protecting Obi-Wan in some way, from frustration over the progress on Artoo, or something to do with ... Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan huffed and rolled away from the sun to face the door, still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Since one year ago, Obi-Wan knew that his Padawan harbored deep reawakened feelings for the Senator._ Even though she did not act responsibly. Even though she abandoned a nineteen year-old to his own efforts at self-healing his grief over his mother's death ... she __**abandoned **__him ... _Obi-Wan left off before he started to blame Amidala for everything up to and including a rainy day.

He lay still, feeling a thump when Anakin lost his balance and slid into the footboard. He thought he heard teeth grinding. _**Frustrated.**__ I know one way to relieve frustration, that is if he weren't grieving over Palpatine._ On the veranda would be pleasant surroundings; Anakin decorated the space last year with a small touch of Nature involving hanging plants, potted palms and wicker furniture. Obi-Wan slitted his eyes open. _Must be taking a break and forgot to tell me._ He opened his mouth to ask, "Padawan, how about some tea?" when he heard Anakin retching. Obi-Wan leaped to the foot of the bed, fallling to his knees beside Anakin, holding his head efficiently as Anakin leaned to the side and lost his lunch, heaving until there was nothing left inside him. _He is as helpless as he was at eleven with the Togorian measles and he needed me day and night for a week, _Obi-Wan thought as he wiped Anakin's face with a clean sleeve of the Padawan's now-soiled robe. Obi-Wan folded the mess inside as he stripped the robe off, rolled it up and threw the voluminous material to one side. Anakin seemed stunned, staring glassy-eyed at the corner of his room, muttering, "Palpatine? Was it _Palpatine_?" Obi-Wan put his arm around his Padawan's shoulders, sitting beside him until he could speak again.

The river disbelieved.

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	86. Chapter 86

Part Eighty-Six

_**Was**__ that Palpatine's, the Supreme Chancellor's, my __**friend's**__ head lipping down Padmé's thighs and then between? _Palpatine's hair had been wavy when Anakin first knew him. Recently, it had thinned and been trimmed shorter than it ever had been in Anakin's memory. Was he vain enough to wear a 'piece' to appear youthful when acting the lover? Vanity was not --- had not been --- one of his qualities. He possessed a certain flair for dress, a fondness for rich fabrics perfectly in keeping with his noble heritage. If wigs were part of that heritage, Anakin had never heard of it. If it weren't Palpatine, then how did the voice overlay the visuals? _Was it a handmaiden and her lover in Padmé's --- and mine --- bedroom on a dare? _No, the handmaidens have their code, just like the Jedi do. Anakin wiped his eyes on his tunic sleeve and blew his nose there as he had when he'd first come to live in the Temple, before he'd heard of handkerchiefs. He hung his head. Padmé and Palpatine. They had similar backgrounds, the same planet of origin, they worked together, loved the Republic first, last, and always together. Why shouldn't they do this? _Because Padmé's __**married**__, that's why! She's __**my**__ wife and even though I said she could go places at night without me, that doesn't make __**this**__ right. The Force wouldn't suggest __**this,**__ not any Force __**I**__ want to be associated with._

After a few minutes more of grinding his teeth, Anakin registered that Obi-Wan sat beside him, patiently waiting for whatever would happen next. Serene. Unflappable. _Uh-oh, Master's gonna kil-- kis-- do __**something **__to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid Chosen One._

"Something at lunch disagreed with you?"

"No. Something I saw ... and heard."

A gentle squeeze of the shoulders. "A vision?"

_A nightmare._ "No."

"Tell me, Padawan."

_Might as well._ Anakin slumped down further, almost out of Obi-Wan's grip. "I saw something about Padmé that Artoo recorded and Threepio, um, accessorized. Just now, when I .. "

"Yes, I noticed." _Droids. Living with the Senator full time. No sense of discretion._ "I see how upset you are."

"It made me _**sick**_."

"Yes." Anakin needed to brush his teeth.

"It was about --- about her personal life." _I can't tell him about our marriage. I'm too ashamed. I don't know what it means to __**be**__ married anymore. I only know that I love him, and that he's not well yet._

"Show me, if it's something that you can duplicate." Obi-Wan glossed over the dislike he felt for her. Whatever this was, he would not judge until he'd seen what Anakin had, and perhaps not even then. He remembered _wanting_ to like her, for Anakin's sake.

Anakin looked down at his glove. "All right, but later. First, I have to tell you something, Master."

_Am I up to this? I suppose. _"Go ahead."

"Padmé and I are lovers, since Geonosis. She came to me when I was in the Healer's ward" --- _and proposed marriage ---_ "and said that she loved me. We had just been through a lot together, and I wanted someone to be with, like family, Master, and I agreed." Practicing his Telling-Upsetting-News kata with Obi-Wan meant that he didn't know if he'd ever finish it. He'd shot straight to the most difficult part --- not at all the way he'd tutor his own Padawan someday. If he ever had one, he thought gloomily.

_Lovers. An adult woman, in a responsible position, in public life, no less, and my little --- my almost grown-up --- Padawan. Kriff._ "You. Said. 'Yes.'"

Anakin nodded, looking away. "I wanted to be _close _to someone, after Mom died. Padmé was there; I was weak, I know it now." He sighed. "She was happy, I thought, until now. Until ..." He gestured at the wall, but Obi-Wan didn't follow the movement and stared at his Padawan's --- _my lover's ---_ profile instead.

"Show me," Obi-Wan said. Anakin ducked from under Obi-Wan's arm, swaying a little as he leaned closer to his toolkit and gingerly retrieved Artoo's lens. To his surprise, Obi-Wan took it from him. "You're trembling. Tell me how to activate this."

Anakin quailed at the tone in his Master's voice. It was very, very stern. "B-Bring the lens close to this chip" --- he lifted the chip from the carpet where he'd dropped it --- "slowly, and point it like this" --- he held his shaking hands up in the correct position --- "and keep a small Force-cushion around your hands. It didn't arc before, but you can never tell. I'll activate Threepio's vocabulator so you can hear everything like, like, I d-did." Anakin did the necessary reprogramming with his portable scanner, wiping some vomitus from it first.

"Not on your sleeve, Padawan."

"Sorry. I forgot." They sat together on the floor as Obi-Wan held the two items, smoothly uniting them within a centimeter of each other. _He __**is**__ the Master. He doesn't even need the Force to steady his hands._ As before, the blue staticky resolution nearly defied viewing until Anakin said tonelessly, "Are you nearly there." Then the image clarified; the figures writhed and heaved in and out of resolution. Anakin turned away at the first glimpse of Palpatine's head. Palpatine's smooth voice said once more, "... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... marvelous ... splendid ... heh-heh ... " until Anakin looked out his privacy-shielded window and wanted to hurl himself from it. But the protective shielding would only throw him back inside, where he didn't want to be.

The river defenestrated.

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	87. Chapter 87

Part Eighty-Seven

"It was Palpatine, wasn't it. Palpatine and Padmé, together. I feel sick."

Obi-Wan swiftly rose to his feet, sitting once more on Anakin's bed. _Anakin is taking this so __**hard**__, almost like he is the Senator's husband and has proprietary rights over her person. _Obi-Wan shifted his weight. _My arm. My headaches. I don't feel like dealing with another mystery. _"Anakin, I don't think that was Palpatine. The being's hair was curly, Palpatine's" --- _Sidious'_ --- "hair was very slightly wavy and gray. Given the difficulties in viewing and the lack of color, true, it may seem to resemble his head and hair, but I believe, I _believe"_ --- _Anakin looks pathetically eager to hear this --- "_that not to be Palpatine. Whoever else it is, I do not know."

_I'm nearly certain that was Padmé's hip; the curve of her waist looked right. _"Thank you, Master." _Padmé and ... someone else. I'll deal with the news later._ "Master, please don't hate me."

"Hate you? Never." _But I'm not telling you what I was going to, at least not tonight. And I want you to sleep in here. Forget about the veranda. _He had to ask. "Anakin, are you in love with the Senator?" He also had to remind himself to breathe.

"I thought I was then. I don't know now." If ever a picture of misery were to be on the Holocomm, its subtitle would read 'Anakin Skywalker.'"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Fair enough answer." _An entire year and he didn't tell me. On the commons in Upper-Gitchy-on-Cremba, he didn't tell me. When we returned home, when we were in bed together, he didn't tell me._

"I only know one thing, Master --- Obi-Wan. I love _you_ right down to the ground." The Padawan and the Master faced each other, one sitting sideways on a narrow bed, one kneeling on the floor, arms crossed on the top of the same bed's smooth footboard.

"I know," the Master said. _I'll tell you about Palpatine ... Sidious ... the best way that I know how._ "Anakin, there's something else that you need to know about the Chancellor." Like the evening that Obi-Wan gave The Talk to his Padawan, he began with a soothing platitude. "'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.'" This time he didn't accompany the words with a gentle, embarrassed smile. It was too serious for that. _This will hurt him. I'm about to hurt my Padawan._ But like that uncomfortable conversation, it would be gotten through and survived. "Anakin, please listen to me." _Refer to Palpatine as the Chancellor -- the more distancing, the better._ "Anakin, the day after his ... passing, our meeting began with Master Yoda and Master Windu revealing their visions about a marvelous _good_ occurring in the Force the evening before." _Now for it._ "Master Yoda shocked us all by saying that the _good_ was the Chancellor's death."

Anakin's breath hitched as he said, "I _hate_ this, Master. If this person" --- he gestured at the wall --- "_was_ the Chancellor, then I hate him for it. But that doesn't take away the fact that he was our leader through very challenging times." _He was my friend. I feel like shit right now, but he was my friend. And he's dead, so I can't thrash things out with him. _Anakin rose and paced, his bare feet sliding across the carpet until he built up a charge of static electricity. He touched the same wall that the images had appeared on and the spark made Obi-Wan start in the room's tension. "The next thing you'll be saying is that he was a Sith Lord."

Obi-Wan's continuing silence made Anakin stop in his tracks. "Oh, my. Oh. My. That's what the Council --- _you_ --- think?"

Obi-Wan rose, too, threading his hands through opposite underarms over his bathrobe, as if to clasp them together over his shoulderblades, an impossibility. "The Darkness has mostly lifted, Anakin. The timing of the passing of the Sith" --- Anakin turned away --- "coincided. I realize that this is difficult --- "

"Difficult? _Difficult? _He was my friend, he tutored me in things I'd never heard of" --- _like oenology --- "_and you all say he was a Sith?"

_All right, all right. Give him room to breathe. In fact, __**get out**__ of this room completely. _Obi-Wan shuffled to the veranda, his slippersox making more sparks than Anakin's bare feet had. At first, he sat rigidly in the wicker settee, then leaned over the balcony's edge. There was no privacy screen or security safety screen on, and it was a straight drop to the almost unseen hard surfaces below. He hadn't turned to see if Anakin followed him, yet even without the Force he knew that he had. He heard Anakin's ragged breathing beside him after a time. This was too serious for Anakin's tears, he supposed. "Anakin," he said, "do you believe evil to be obvious? To wear black robes, a hideous mask, think evil thoughts that warp its Force-signature every _single_ moment? Isn't it more reasonable to believe that evil is a sometimes thing" --- _**did**__ the Zabrak apprentice ever have kind impulses? --- _"that overwhelms a being's, uh, _being_, and leads him or her or it or them," _--- stay on target, Negotiator --- "_to evil actions, with that being's complicity?" _Like Sidious befriending you, my own._

Anakin snorted. "This is Philosophy 301, _The Evilness of Evildoers, _Master. I've studied it." _And nearly flunked out._ "All I _know_ is that on the Chancellor's last ride with me, the last time I saw him, he hadn't changed his nature. We listened to opera, he got speeder-sick --- he was an old man, Master! --- "

"We crashed in that same Courier, Padawan, one week later." _I nearly drowned on Trow._

" ... and then when the opera ended, h-he seemed to be closer to me than ever before, like he wanted me to _share_ his experiences and all the knowledge he'd built up over his long life --- "

"Was he absent from your sight at all?" The detective in Obi-Wan needed solid clues to present to his unbelieving client.

"Once. He needed the 'fresher, I _told_ you he got speeder-sick ... and stayed a long time, naturally" --- _and there was a weird drilling sound --- the 'fresher abuts the fuel compartment --- 'Undetectotane' label, 'Flame-On' contents, was someone fooled in a black ... market ... deal ... Huttese writing on the melted accelerant container ... Huttese codes in the unmarked ... black market ... chip ... in Artoo ... next to Padmé's --- no, our --- no, her --- bed, night after night ... __**Oh.**_

Obi-Wan stepped closer to Anakin, who stopped talking and leaned far over the railing, staring blindly down into the depths of Coruscant's upper levels. Anakin swayed. Obi-Wan grasped his arm and led him to the settee. _He's put together the clues and had another epiphany. They are so hard on him._

The river knew.

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	88. Chapter 88

Part Eighty-Eight

"Anakin, who is Jira?" The comms were filled with news of the many tributes to Palpatine and plans for his memorial service. Obi-Wan had listened for only seconds before switching the unit off. Their morning habit of laughing to _Diurnal Dron's Drive Time Download_'s jokes would have to wait until the Republic came to rest on an even keel and Dron resumed his routine; the lack of entertainment left the kitchen oppressively quiet.

Anakin stirred his cereal listlessly. "An old friend on Tatooine. Probably dead by now." He poured more blue milk into his bowl of Cheeri-Osks. A few still floated. He mashed them down savagely with his spoon.

Obi-Wan fetched a small towel and wiped up the spill without comment. "Did you ever mention her to me before?" If he could get Anakin to think about his past that he had overcome, his Padawan might gain perspective.

_Why the inquisition? I'll be before the Council soon enough, with their questions. Stupid Chosen One. Can't even tell friend from enemy._ "I don't ... know. What about her?" The caf was too hot, but he drank it at one gulp, knowing his gullet would suffer. _No self-healing for me. I deserve whatever I get. Not going to be Knighted, Qui-Gon's faith a big joke ... Obi-Wan's time wasted ... _

"Anakin, stop it."

"Why? My whole life, a waste. Wasted your time, Obi-Wan." _He won't be 'Master' much longer._

"Stop it right now!" Obi-Wan threw the towel in his Padawan's face. "You're not the only Jedi to have been deceived. You're young. It happens. Even to Knights, it happens."

Anakin surged up and his chair tipped backwards to the floor. "Years on end, _Master_. Friends with Padmé, friends with the Chancellor, a Sith Lord, for kriff's sake! My judgment ... isn't."

_The only way out of this is through._ "_My_ judgment on Melida/Daan brought me great grief."_ And Cerasi died._ "My friend, Nield, turned on me after I'd given up the Jedi path. I thought my whole life as a Padawan was for nothing. And when I came back to the Temple under a cloud, my Jedi friends snubbed me." _Siri, you bitch._

Anakin waved his hands in the air. "'Snubbed?' _Snubbed?_"

"Yes, 'snubbed.' I was barely a teen and being disciplined by the Order, on the outs with Qui-Gon for months, my friend Cerasi's _death_ hurt every bit as much as finding out about the Chancellor and your ... other friend." _Naboo? They were together on Naboo, someplace in a fort, or a villa, near a lake. She fucked him there. She was the one. It was his blazing Force-signature that I envisioned, somehow._

"Obi-Wan, did you take your memory vitamins this morning?"

"Yes, I did."

"Good, because I want you to remember this day. It'll be the day that I get thrown out of the Order." Anakin splashed his bowl and cup and saucer and spoon into the sink, breaking the cup and cracking the bowl. He stomped into the common room.

Obi-Wan wiped the table, smearing the blue milk all over it. He pressed down harder with his right hand, but it refused to grasp the towel tightly. He switched the towel to his left hand to complete the job. _And my head aches, too. And I __**know**__ that Anakin never mentioned Jira to me before this morning._ Obi-Wan slogged into the common room. Anakin stared at the comm station, his jaw dropping. "A pallbearer. Amedda wants me to be a pallbearer at the funeral." He laughed and laughed. Obi-Wan grew alarmed. "I-I'm representing the Jedi Or-Order!" Tears rolled down Anakin's cheeks and he seemed to be having trouble drawing enough air. "And Padmé's representing N-Naboo!" Obi-Wan jerked Anakin away from the station, shoving him onto the sofa while he snapped off the comm with the Force. "Oooh, frivolous, Mas- Obi-Wan!" Anakin rolled from side to side, holding his ribs tightly.

Obi-Wan slapped him hard. He drew back his hand again, but Anakin charged up from his seat, shouldering Obi-Wan's midriff in a full scramball tackle. "Whooof!" Obi-Wan tripped back over one of Anakin's discarded boots and sat down jarringly on its mate. He flung back a hand to break his fall, but the wrist buckled and his cheek smacked into the floor as he twisted to the side to avoid Anakin's grasp. Anakin kept up his momentum, however, and rolled Obi-Wan face down, straddling his waist while pulling up on his right wrist to crank it behind his Master's back, forcing it upwards.

_How odd I don't feel his grip._ Obi-Wan sniffed back blood from his nose. _Time to be a Master._ Using not one whit of the Force, he stiffened his right leg despite Anakin's weight on his back, tucked his left knee into the space thus created between his right knee and the floor, and twisted to the left. Anakin's head bobbled as he fell to the side, losing his grip on Obi-Wan's wrist, following the rollover until Obi-Wan's position changed to the superior one. _I've got to end this fast._ Since his right hand and wrist were numb but not his forearm on up to the shoulder, he leaned fiercely on Anakin's throat with his forearm, grabbing his numb wrist with his left hand, using the right forearm as a bar to press into Anakin's vulnerable jugular.

The river squeezed.

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	89. Chapter 89

Part Eighty-Nine

Obi-Wan pressed hard enough to block Anakin's jugular, hoping that the pressure would cut off either Anakin's air or suppress the artery enough to produce unconsciousness. His bathrobe snarled around him, but hadn't tangled his hands or his legs. Anakin fought to regain his freedom, twisting powerfully beneath Obi-Wan's body, not clear enough in his mind even to bring up a knee to Obi-Wan's crotch._ Even a near blackout will do._

_CRASH! Tinkle, grit, tinkle!_ The sound of glass breaking edged into Anakin's overloaded brain. He stopped resisting. _Had a short-out arc in my head, _was his first returning thought. _I ... broke something and ... Master's bleeding._ From Obi-Wan's face dripped gouts of blood, down Obi-Wan's chin and from there to Anakin's own. Anakin turned his head to the side as much as possible to avoid the drips trickling onto his lips. "'M all right, Master," he croaked through Obi-Wan's bruising squeeze on his throat. " ... blitzed out ... too much happening ... let me up. Please." He went limp in surrender.

Obi-Wan gauged his Padawan's state with a measuring eye. "All ... right," he gasped, breathing through his mouth. He sat up and slid off Anakin's midriff, coming to rest at a wide-legged sprawl, using Anakin's body as a backrest. They panted together.

"Did I break your nose?" Anakin asked. _I hurt him. My true friend in all this mess._

Obi-Wan probed tenderly with his left hand. "No. It's just a bloody nose." It left splotches of crimson on his hands and bathrobe.

From his supine position, Anakin spotted a crushed box, myriads of pearlescent support beads and shards of crystal. _My anniversary gift. I left it next to the sofa._ There was nothing to conclude about that, and so he didn't. He sat up, twisting around until he supported Obi-Wan's back with his own. It was better not to look at each other. "What next?"

Obi-Wan analyzed the query. "Do you mean 'what do we do next,' 'what do I do next,' or 'whatever could possibly go wrong next?'"

Anakin would have laughed if he'd had the strength. _Dearest Master and his analytical mind. I hope that he never changes._ "What do _we_ do next?"

"I don't know about you, but I need to see Luminara."

Anakin turned around quickly and Obi-Wan nearly toppled. "Kriff, Master, I've hurt you, I've really done it this time ... "

"My right hand and wrist are numb again. Please stay rational, Padawan. This happened before our tussle."

_He's rubbing his head. _"Master, right now is the time to go. I'm going, too."

"All, all right."

_He's not fighting me about going there. Not good. _Anakin took Obi-Wan's right hand to give him a boost up. It felt like space-cold durasteel in his grasp.

xxxxx

Anakin worked at his Living Force connection with Luminara's fish. They moved as one, each separate in the school, yet melded by their behavior into one unit. Up, down, and sideways, they flashed their silvery skins at him through the clear aquarium walls. "Master Lu, I'm going to tell Master Yoda about the Tuskens." He said it mostly to himself, thinking out loud. The Living Force surrounding them was filled with life and instinct and no thought at all.

Luminara finished treating Obi-Wan's nose with a final smoothing motion of deft fingertips. "Snort," she said. Obi-Wan snorted. "Any pain?"

"No. Thanks, Lu. My hand's better. Just tingles a little."

"Wrestling, you say?" Obi-Wan and Anakin nodded in unison. "I see. You're on _medical_ leave, Obi-Wan."

"Yes." Obi-Wan and Anakin said as one. _If only you knew what was going on, Lu._

"Eat regularly and well, no stress, take your memory vitamins every day, repeat your lesson twice daily."

"Yes," they chorused again.

Luminara turned her back on them to wash her hands, fairly hearing the looks sizzling between them. "Now then." She focused on Obi-Wan first. "Padawan, please wait outside. I'll talk to you, but I need to address any pain first."

"Yes, Master Lu." As he waited under the speaker outside the office, it played more nalargon music, soft riffs this time; they accompanied Anakin's review of his secrets. _Him and Master:__** SECURE, **_although he was perplexed by Master Ry-Gaul's statements to him on Trow. Padmé knew, and was trustworthy. For some reason, he'd had the impression that her pride was involved, so she would not let out their secret. _Him and Padmé: __**OUT TO OBI-WAN, SECURE TO REST OF GALAXY. **__Tusken Incident:_ _**OUT TO OBI-WAN, OUT TO MASTER LU, SOON OUT TO MASTER YODA AND BY EXTENSION, THE REST OF THE COUNCIL. **__The Chancellor:__** SECURE TO ALL.**_ Sidious' identity rested within the Jedi Order's Council and with him. It could not be any safer. Dooku and Grievous were loose ion cannons. The latest intel had them on Alliga, a recent addition to the CIS. _Dooku._ He gloated a minute, briefly feeling on top of things, when lately so much had been on top of him._ I'm coming for you, just as soon as I can. Master and I will take you down, and your droids, and your droid-android-cybernetic wonder of a General. It won't be long now._ Anakin settled into a meditation, a little surprised at himself. He'd weathered a storm. It felt good.

xxxxx

Luminara spared a look at her aquarium. The small silvery fish swam endlessly, each one identical, but each one an individual. "Obi-Wan, tell me something."

_She's smart._ "Sure."

"I don't really need to know how you were hurt, but what do you think triggered your hand problem?"

Obi-Wan couldn't have liked her half so much if she wasn't so smart. "There _was_ a stressor. I recited my lesson at dawn."

"Want to go out for a drink tonight?" She tried for casual.

He grimaced. "No, thanks. Still doesn't appeal."

"Stressed. Maybe we can change your lesson. Start using this now." Obi-Wan listened. It was nearly the same. He said as much. "The important thing is to place yourself first, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You count for something." She tapped the end of his nose. "For a lot, as a matter of fact."

The river warmed.

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	90. Chapter 90

Part Ninety

"I'll wait outside. Sure you won't reconsider?"

Anakin licked his lips. "No, thanks, Master Lu. You don't have to stand with me. You've done so much, more than enough. It's important to realize when you've had enough." He glanced at Obi-Wan. "I'm ready."

Luminara sat down to wait. "I'm here for backup, Padawan. Anytime."

Obi-Wan's morning had been poor thus far. Even with his new lessons that he'd practiced diligently for three days, his attention wandered. _If this happens in battle, I can't go on as Anakin's Master. I won't be able to have his back. _Perhaps being in the Council chambers would improve his focus. Being in Master Yoda's renewed clarified presence generally worked wonders on his moods, too. "Proceed, Padawan." There was an awkward moment when it looked like Obi-Wan expected Anakin to precede him into the chambers, then Anakin positioned himself at his usual spot while Obi-Wan led him inside, two steps ahead, one step to the right.

"Young Obi-Wan, better you look. Rest you did need." _As did I. _"Keep you two long, we will not." Yoda turned to Anakin. "Privileged, you are, to know what the Council knows and senses." His ears drooped. "The Darkness has thinned, but at your personal cost, Padawan Skywalker. Sympathetic, we are, to your mixed feelings." Anakin merely nodded. "Begin with your reactions to your new knowledge, we shall."

_So quiet. They're waiting for __**me**__ to divulge --- what? _"Masters, Sidious holds no power over me. Our friendship had a surface that I enjoyed greatly and a depth I never understood. He was _nice_ to me. I came here at nine years old, right after Master Qui-Gon's death and with a new Master. Sidious listened to me. Eh, Master Obi-Wan did, too, but Sidious was outside the Order, more like folks I was used to." _Padmé was, too, but I didn't see her for ten years. _"Sidious taught me to appreciate cultural aspects of life, mostly Nubian ones like good food and wines and music and art --- "

"Implying, are you, that Jedi refectory food lacks a certain something?" A few Councilmembers huffed and Anakin thought he saw a wink from Shaak Ti's holographic left eye.

Anakin relaxed a little more but didn't smile. "Master, refectory food speaks for itself."

"Go on, Padawan." Ki-Adi-Mundi had several children, Anakin remembered as he turned to address the Cerean's dignified blue shape. He'd never understood the ins and outs of why a Knight sat on the Council and was not a Master.

"That's about all I have to say. He was my friend. He was Sith. He didn't confide his Sithly plans to me, if that's what you all want to know. You can ask me questions. I'm ready." A warmth surrounded him, a feeling like being immersed in Gitchy, except that the water was septsilky, and was warm and he could breathe it in. The warmth left him suddenly and as there were genuine smiles on all faces, except the ones he couldn't see due to beards or masks, he assumed he had passed a test.

Yoda tapped his gimer stick once. "Details. Details I will tell you, young Skywalker, about the death of the Sith." Anakin braced himself. "Free to go, are the rest of you until tomorrow. Have heard these things you all have." Yoda's citrine eyes regarded Anakin sharply, "Privacy needed for the rest of our time together, I hear. I will speak first, and then you."

The rest strode or slithered or sparkled away. Obi-Wan drew upon the power of his fellows until only Yoda's smooth, steady flame was left. That sustained him even better. He took a deep breath to concentrate more.

Yoda didn't need the Holonews feed to state the facts. He knew them by rote. "At nineteen-thirty hours seven days ago, most everyone's dinnertime for our part of Coruscant, holoemitter failure occurred in Sidious' office due to unknown power surge. Scorch marks on desk, office walls, Sidious' clothing indicated enormous voltage involved, enough for killing human, near human, humanoid, or even larger species, such as Phlog. Residual fingerprints point to Sidious' position: at desk, leaning into holoemitter, he was, one hand on it and one hand caught in robe's pocket. State of sexual excitement, corpse was frozen in. Fairly common in his species for electrocution victims, I am told."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked away. Anakin's mind whirled out of its near-calm. _Nineteen-thirty hours. Dinnertime. Terratta strips. Padme. With Palpatine ... no! Not with him! Spychip, it was! Overlay with other end of transmission, Sidious did! _Anakin shook his head. _I mean, Artoo and Threepio were spies for Palpatine/Sidious in Padmé's household. To spy on her, or her playing around, maybe because of blackmail, maybe for Palpatine/Sidious' gratification, who knows?_ Anakin had been frightened at age ten in Madame Nu's library by an artist's hologram rendition of Obi-Wan's description of the Zabrak assassin and his yellow-tinged eyes ... _Sith_ eyes? After all the revelations and disillusion lately, the fact that he himself had unknowingly killed Palpatine --- The Sith Chancellor --- left Anakin nonplused. His heart beat steadily, he felt not at all faint; this epiphany bred no tears, no disbelief. It simply was. _Was I chosen for __**this**__? It doesn't matter. I did it. I am a Sith-Killer, like Master. _"Master Yoda, please stop. I may know something after all." Obi-Wan and Yoda stared, Obi-Wan slightly disapproving at the interruption. "I may have killed the Sith, no, I know I did."

The river nodded.

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	91. Chapter 91

Part Ninety-One

After explaining his actions leading to Sidious' death and following with the admission of guilt of his crime on Tatooine, Anakin had never felt so clean. All except for the marriage-divulging part, which he still kept in a shamed chamber of his heart._ Can't hurt Obi-Wan, not now, not ever. I can live with secrets. _Confessing the Tusken incident to Master Yoda a minute ago in twenty-two words still rang in his ears. _I killed ... m-murdered the Tuskens who abducted my mother and killed her. The entire camp, down to their massifs. I was wrong._

Yoda stood at Anakin's feet, as close as possible to him without treading on toes. He looked up at Anakin a long time, almost drowning him with the warm Gitchy flood of sensation. Finally he turned and waddled back to his seat. "Hmmmph."

Obi-Wan's mind cleared and he took advantage of it to put pieces of the puzzle together. Anakin and Padmé, Padmé and Other, to be spied on like they were microbes under a portable scanner, all their little and not-so-little foibles and faults open to grinning salaciousness, playing on their lovers' stage for Sidious as he fumbled with himself and ... Artoo and Threepio, trusted as they were, perfectly innocent. Why, Artoo had been bravely trying to dislodge the chip, Anakin said! Even Amidala didn't deserve this. His estimation of her rose a notch. She'd endured a near-death experience and had gotten up the next morning and gone to work, speaking out on something or other despite the chaos of Palpatine/Sidious' death. He couldn't recall what she'd yammered on about. _Might double up on those memory vitamins. _

"_Visiting_ with Senator Amidala, you were. Problems with droids, she was having, mmm?"

"Yes, Master. It had been over one full year ago that Geonosis, um, renewed our friendship. We remembered it for a drink together."

Obi-Wan shot him a look. _Oooops. I don't drink._ Obi-Wan's expression shaded into resignation at Anakin's lies about his whereabouts on the night of Sidious' demise. _Lies, no, Master, just ... omissions. Please understand._ He was starting to feel dirty again. _Maybe __**I'll**__ take up drinking._

Yoda pursued his timeline ferociously. "Nineteen-thirty death, blocked surge to protect yourself and the Senator, droids ceased functioning." Yoda's ears swiveled first one way, then reversed. "Repaired, are they?"

"No. Only this hyperburst I told you about came through twice, then nothing more." _If you need to view it, I'll bring the holoscanner's recording of it in. Does your species even have sex?_ "After all this is over, they'll need mindwipes, both of them." _I can rebuild only so much of their traits. I'm not happy. I don't want them to change._

"Come closer, Padawan Skywalker."

Anakin gulped. He stepped away from his Master, not looking for a supporting glance. Just by being in the chamber with him, Obi-Wan was doing enough. _My true friend lives. My friend who was not my friend is dead. _Anakin stood before Master Yoda as repentant as he could possibly be. He'd been taken in by Sidious, he'd slaughtered thirty-two sentients undeservedly, plus their pets, he'd endangered his Master, his wife, his entire personal galaxy as well as the galaxy-at-large by his actions. And his non-actions. However Master Yoda judged, he knew it would hurt and he knew he deserved it.

One of the most difficult things that Obi-Wan had done in his life was not to send reinforcement of any kind through his training bond with Anakin. He clenched his fists with the effort to stand firm. A small tremor began in his right hand.

"Padawan Skywalker, destroyed the murderers of your mother, you have. Saved the Republic from continuing Sith leadership, you have, by destroying Sidious. Two kinds of results, one kind of destruction. Chosen for destruction, do you believe you are, Padawan?"

Anakin whispered, "No, I couldn't be, Master. The prophecy wouldn't be about only destruction from a Chosen One, it couldn't be! It must be about balance, about restoration as well as destruction." He firmed his voice. "I don't believe I am bad. I couldn't feel compassion" --- he glanced at Obi-Wan --- "or loyalty to the Order, or friendship, or, or anything else that is good if I were." He went on, softly, "But I made wrong steps. I'm willing to return to a planet that holds only pain to make amends to the Tuskens in their way, not mine. I will continue to pursue my Knighthood as heartily as I will pursue Count Dooku and Grievous, to end this war. And I _will_" --- his voice squeaked --- "be Padawan to the best Master ever, if he'll continue having me." He lowered his head so that he couldn't see Obi-Wan, but he felt his warm embrace almost physically through their bond. There followed a measured silence at least as long as Anakin's slaughter in the Tusken camp, but without the energizing charge of mind-numbing adrenaline. Anakin heard each of his heartbeats, felt each drop of cold sweat drip from his palms. Later, he couldn't honestly say what he thought about.

"Young Skywalker, come here." Anakin stumbled as he approached Yoda's seat. "Kneel." Anakin knelt. The wizened Master placed his gimer stick in Anakin's hands. "Know what this is, do you?"

"Your cane, Master."

"Hard, it is. Tough."

"Yes." Anakin had never touched it before. Its dark wood was filled with whorls, showing growth where shoots had sprouted long ago. A knobby handle displayed grooves where Yoda's claws found purchase. "It's ... a _naynabo_ root?"

"Mmmm, yes ... good guess ... _heeheee_ ... On Trow, I was, last century." Yoda snorted. "Not changed much in all that time, by your mission report. Gitchy runs wild there still."

Obi-Wan focused his mind with some effort on Yoda's words. His concentration was intermittent. "Bland. It's still bl-bland, Master Yoda. Landscape, food ... every-everything."

Yoda nodded at Obi-Wan's statement and seemed about to address him, but turned back to Anakin instead. "Good, bland is. Useful. Without bland, without something tying us to mundane reality, we soar too high." As he spoke, the gimer stick cooled in Anakin's hand from its prior Yoda-warmth. Yoda spread out his hands benevolently, rising to the ceiling of the chamber where the frescoes were lit by his unshielded light in the Force. Obi-Wan's tremor subsided and Anakin gaped as Yoda smiled down on the pair. He descended gently into his seat. "Temporary insanity with the Tuskens, it was. Forgiven, you are. Amends will you make to the ones you injured." _Seeing Tatooine again, I can take it, I can and will take it. _"Postponed, your Trials are, until peace resumes." _I expected this part._ "Remain in your care, Obi-Wan, young Skywalker will." _And I am unworthy of this part. _"Darkness, thinning, it is. And greatly to do with you, Anakin Skywalker. Keep the stick. Dozens more in my closet, I have. Use it for when you need blandness." Yoda touched the stick once as if to garner enough equanimity to reach his quarters to gather its replacement, and regarded Obi-Wan. "Resume leave, you both shall. Look to your health, young Jedi. Keep me informed."

Without asking, Obi-Wan knew that Yoda wouldn't really mind if he did not keep him informed of exact details in his problem. The aged Master _would_ mind, though, if Obi-Wan didn't recover. Obi-Wan nodded. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered about Yoda and Yaddle's home world. No one knew it, and Obi-Wan was afraid to ask. He didn't object to a _few_ mysteries in life.

The river intensified.

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	92. Chapter 92

Part Ninety-Two

"For the Force's, Anakin's, the Order's, and my own sake ... No, no, that's wrong." _Luminara said that I must put myself first on the list._ Obi-Wan started over breathlessly, "For my own sake Anakin's the Force's and the Order's I scale down my reaction ... down ... down ... until I can ... breathe ... without ... hyperventilating ... there ... " He heaved a breath. "Step one done." For step two, he first clenched all his voluntary muscles and then consciously relaxed them twenty times. It helped. It was the second time he'd needed the revised kata this morning. The first time was when he'd awakened to his bed without Anakin in it. It took a full minute to remember why they slept separately these days. His Padawan had sung in the 'fresher as Obi-Wan woke up, warbling not his usual lusty, "Roll Me Over In The Clover," but a sweet tune involving Ewoks. _He can't act, but he can sing, and spar a little. _The comical title under Anakin's likeness in this season's holoyearbook popped into his head. More random thoughts like this and he'd comm Luminara. She hadn't wanted him to attend the Chancellor's funeral, anyway. He could beg off. _No. Anakin will penetrate Sidious' office with Dar Wac under the guise of gathering quotes for Anakin's part of the eulogy. Dar Wac alerted us to this window of opportunity to gather Sidious' private files, and I __**will **__attend the Council meeting and the funeral. For Anakin's sake ...__**and**__ my own. _Anakin had left already to meet with Dar Wac and as Obi-Wan rolled out of his luxurious sheets, he berated himself for lying slug-abed while there was work to be done.

xxxxx

Dar Wac's usual musky smell permeated a five-meter ring around him. "Wait in lobby. Call you, I will, if need you I do." Dar Wac obeyed. The Rodian's glazed eyes added to Yoda's twinges of guilt, and he knew that Dar Wac would remember none of his part in the deception. _Straighten out his loyalties, I would, if I did not put limits on my meddling._ _Mind wipes, sentients do not need._

After adjusting the Chamber's holoemitter to its largest display, Anakin set up it up in the middle of the room, first darkening the spire's large windows from the midmorning sun. The pilfered files came from a charred top-of-the-line model of holoemitter on Sidious' desk, undoubtedly loaded with extras and enhanced reception. He was not tempted to tinker with its repair. What it needed was being fired into a binary sun's corona, zapped into its constituent atoms. At a nod from Master Yoda, he inserted the files and activated the device.

_Hmmmph. What mammals __**will**__ get up to. _Yoda squinted at a uncorrupted file of a full silhouette of Senator Amidala and an unfamiliar curly-headed ... _female? ... err, _yes, female perhaps-human, perhaps-something-close-enough. _Too thin, they both are._ Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the Council chamber so that all the others could observe and comment on their trove, he traveled further into the folder of top secret files, a subfolder leading him into a series of orders from One to Sixty-Seven of varying interest ("NOTE FOR GLORIOUS EMPEROR," said one, in an elaborate flowery font --- _Emperor? Emperor, he would be?_ --- designating Order Number Fifteen: Change colors of guards' uniforms to red) until he reached Order Sixty-Six: Initiate total purge of Jedi Order galaxy-wide by complete clone forces. After reading Order Sixty-Seven (Forceful sampling of blood or comparable tissue and/or fluid samples of all Empire citizens to identify fugitive Jedi or any other Force-sensitives targeted for elimination), he clicked off the holoemitter with an unsteady claw, dimly hearing Adi Gallia sobbing. Shaak Ti automatically tried to put a comforting blue arm around Adi's blue shoulders, but became frustrated by her holoemitter's limitations. Kit Fisto staggered near to the door and vomited. Close to Yoda's side, having risen from his seat in alarm to stare at the file, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and whispered, " ... the younglings ... the younglings ... " as he bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and lowering his head to prevent a faint. The bewildered look left Anakin's face and a justified expression took its place. The Padawan stood strong and tall in the middle of the circle of seats, more in control than any of the Councilmembers, Yoda included. Yoda approached Anakin and placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. "Leaving for Tatooine directly after funeral, you are. All the time you need there, take without counting. Small reimbursement for a debt the Order can never repay." Anakin thought he saw tears in Master Yoda's eyes, but it was hard to tell through the tears in his own.

xxxxx

Resembling a mechanical device himself, Anakin got through the day; the state funeral no longer said 'hypocritical' to him. He buried a friendship with a Sith the same day that he buried his ideals of marriage. Like that time when Ferus checked him on the green Temple scramball playing field, he knew he wasn't always going to win. Dredging up the childish emotions during the Naboo Victory Parade when he was nine and putting them behind him in his growing awareness of his maturity, he glanced around as he mounted the dais' steps in tandem with his fellow pallbearers. Only the trappings of this afternoon were similar: enormous crowd, many speeches, Padmé beside him. As he began his part of the eulogy after hefting the casket onto its bier along with Padmé, Amedda, Dar Wac and two others, he glanced sideways at Padmé's painted face and finery. _Just like our takeout terratta strips and the best part of our marriage, let's get this over with fast._ The dais seemed an island with a blinding view of a glary ocean. Anakin searched the crowd, talking all the while from his notes. He couldn't spot any Jedi, much less Obi-Wan. Still thumbing the scroller on his datapad, letting his voice stress or destress his words according to his practice thirty minutes earlier, he searched for Obi-Wan without stopping until he found him. _We've imprinted; we won't lose each other._ Anakin could not see his Master's face at all, nor his form. The beacon pointed him out anyway. _Tatooine next. Sandpeople, Cliegg, Owen, Beru, and Mom's grave ... sand. Hang in there, Anakin._

The river filtered.

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	93. Chapter 93

Part Ninety-Three

Space. Adventure, without the shooting-at-his-Z-95-Headhunter part, the being-a-target-for-droids mindset. Tatooine did have some CIS activity, but it was centered around Mos Osnoe, far from Mos Eisley. _I __**could**__ learn to like this, _Obi-Wan thought, and then paused. _We're on a somber mission for my Padawan. Enthusiasms later, Obi-Wan. _"Tatooine tomorrow morning, Master. I'm meditating about it tonight."

"I'll join you, of course." _Qui-Gon's face, red with the exhausting heat that curbed his performance against the Zabrak, Master's gasping, dusty body on the ship's ramp. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."_ "Right after I do something about this shudder in the engines."

There crouched Obi-Wan, greased up adorably, but in the wrong kind of grease. _Master's so much better today. I'm up for something, but how to interest __**him?**__ Shower? Dropping towel 'accidentally'? _Sonics only on this tub, a handheld applicator in the tiny 'fresher that would be like pointing a blaster at a lover and expecting them to get romantic. Their transport was another Courier, its dejarik table bolted firmly to the deck, double-checked for sabotage. No beds, just blow-up pneumatics that reminded him last night forcefully of Obi-Wan's lips in a similar shape, doing something delightful. _Too bad there aren't any lavalavas to borrow from Beebar and Dimmie to play at being Trow natives._ Both teens elected to stay on Coruscant indefinitely, finding work right away and having a steadying influence as well as a curfew in the Jedi Hostel.

A wild idea struck him like a meteorite. "Master, maybe the problem is in the morrin stabilizers. Derezz them, would you?"

"Sure." Obi-Wan deftly produced a tool from the onboard toolkit without asking Anakin to verify its usage. Anakin shook his head. _Master, a techhead. Surprise._ He smiled to himself as the gravity cut out. "Kriff!" swore Obi-Wan uncharacteristically from under the deck plates, his legs swinging free as his body and then finally his head appeared. He radiated embarrassment, his growing-out hair as well as the end of his nose darkened with grease. A smidgen of fluff was stuck to his nape by it. "I thought I had the hang of this, Anakin ... "

Anakin brushed away the fluff, lingering on the corded neck for eight seconds. The fluff floated away in slow motion. "Doesn't matter. I'll look at it later. Shudder's gone, see?"

"So it seems. Hard to tell, though, since we can't stand up. How _did_ you know that?"

Anakin smiled ferally. "My ears are better than yours, I guess. But that's the only part of me that is." He angled downward very slowly to grab Obi-Wan's coveralls' belt, drawing them chest-to-chest. "All of _you_ works just fine." The kiss left them both wanting more. Obi-Wan licked into Anakin's mouth as if he were attacking a Deneelian fizz-pudding, delving to find the hidden sweet in the midst of the goo. They pinwheeled in the zero gravity, bouncing, ricocheting with not a thought to any other being, any other ship, any other world. They were their own world.

"It's not working."

"The engines will be _fine_. I fooled you --- "

"No. My cock."

"I can fix that. Let the _real_ mechanic go down and get dirty." Anakin lifted Obi-Wan's legs over his forearms so that their bodies pressed together more intimately. It didn't feel nearly as good when they were fully clothed. "Lean back, now." Obi-Wan did, locking his hands around Anakin's neck, bringing his ass to bear against Anakin's groin, squirming against it delightedly. They bobbed together gently in midair.

Anakin's head registered that this ought to be arousing, but his cock was having none of it. "Kriff."

"Padawan ... "

"Sorry."

Obi-Wan could think more clearly in space of late. It was very strange. "Gravity. No gravity."

"I _know._"

"It's affecting our blood pressure. Our blood that normally pools in the legs and lower, _deliciously _lower parts of the body collects in the upper part instead."

Anakin groaned. "I outsmarted myself."

_My simpleton. _"Possibly. But I" --- _kiss --- _"may" --- _kiss ---_ "know" --- _kiss --- "_how" --- _kiss ---_ "to" --- _kiss ---_ "solve" --- _kiss --- "_this" --- _kiss --- "_particular" --- _kiss --- _"_mechanical" --- lick ---_ "conundr--"

"Get on with it!" Anakin's mouth interrupted, but his body was enjoying the attention all too much.

Obi-Wan looked affronted. "Patience, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." Anakin counted to ten, and then again.

"We'll need to get closer."

_That word again. _"_How?"_

"We'll need the Force for this and there's only us two lifeforms available to draw upon."

Trow. Master had used the Force in Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy to honor the Mother respectably --- no, _spectacularly_ --- against great odds. "I'm all ears."

Backflipping slowly away, Obi-Wan turned up the ambient temperature and slithered out of his coveralls and undergarments. Not even the sight of his Master's powerful body stirred Anakin's cock. "You do the same." Anakin disrobed, securing their clothing in an overhead cupboard, maneuvering in the zero gravity just like in Temple practice. On his return trip, he grabbed Obi-Wan in a crushing hug. They found a stasis in the middle of the troop compartment, suspended between deck and overhead. "_You're_ excited."

"It's been a while."

Obi-Wan regarded him steadily. "And for me." Anakin couldn't reply except in a kiss. Their difficulties receded, their strengths advanced. "Do what I do," whispered Obi-Wan as he rammed the burst containing Luminara's instructions for clearing sinus cavities through their bond.

Anakin gasped with the impact. _A Master's power is so ... big. _"S-S-See what you're getting at."

"It's only for you, Anakin. Taken it in all the way?"

"Ohhh, yeah. Now what?"

"Now I'm going to pull it out and show you how to reverse everything."

_"Nnnnnnngh."_

"You all right there?"

"Uh-huh. Do it like this?" _Our new bond, I love it, I love it ..._

"Yes, Padawan." Anakin shunted five millimeter-wide strands of the Force into the triple spongy layers of his cock, blocking a tubule here, widening one there, so that blood flowed from his upper body down to where, as a human, it naturally would not go while he was in zero gravity. He could both feel and see the change in his cock. From a stir to a wiggle to a prominence, his length firmed until it was where he wanted it to be, and even a bit more.

Obi-Wan watched himself expand beyond his fondest hopes. _Ohhh, a distraction for Anakin from his troubles. Goodie._ He held Anakin's tense biceps as he swung himself slowly into the position they'd tried while clothed. It felt much better now. _Lube. Kriff._

Anakin continued the same thought. _Galley. Immediately._ He kept the flesh hand on Obi-Wan's bare back, reaching up to inch along the rivetted overhead seam that fused each side of the Courier together, pulling them handhold-by-handhold to the galley.

Obi-Wan stayed motionless while thinking furiously. "Shortening," he said. Anakin continued pulling. They reached the galley and Obi-Wan slowly, slowly reached over for the cupboard and its shortening. The can floated away after he'd slicked his hands. "Both?"

"Yuh-huh." Anakin closed his eyes. "_Mmmmm_hm. There, too. Ohhh, yessss."

Obi-Wan's voice hadn't squeaked lately, but it did now. "You do _me._"

The river obliged.

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	94. Chapter 94

Part Ninety-Four

Obi-Wan whimpered, "More, more. I can take it. Don't be timid, Anakin, there, ahhhh ... "_ How did I ever ... no matter what he's done ... saved our Republic .. like me, a Sith-Killer, oh ... oh, my ... _

_Can't hurt him. Use the Force, Anakin ... _Anakin closed his eyes and concentrated. It huffed the breath right out of him, like that first time _he_ felt Obi-Wan's force inside him, impaled and penetrated by it while Gitchy's Living Force murmured nearby. As Master received the same treatment this evening, he was anxious to prove himself completely well again, Anakin could tell. _**I**__ control how deep and how fast, __**Padawan**__ Kenobi, _Anakin thought as he cupped Obi-Wan's ass in his two strong hands and stopped mid-stroke.

_Nooooooo. I'm well again, I can take it, let me distract you from our last week together. Don't baby me! _Obi-Wan knew better than to fight in this situation, but he opened his eyes for a Masterly glare. The effect was ruined by the sight of his Padawan's focused features, perfectly in control as he stayed all motion._ Is this one of those times when he knows better than me?_ Obi-Wan closed his eyes to self-diagnose for a pleasure check. _Great sex? __**Great sex.**_ Well. All right then. He could control himself. Various aphorisms scrolled through his head. "Everything Proceeds According To Plan." _Yes._ "There Is No Passion, There Is Serenity." _Piffle. _"Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder." _Very true._ He hadn't realized how their troubles had frayed his strength until now.

_// Now? __**Now//**_ The word came as a shriek through their bond. Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Anakin's face streamed sweat, his brow remained unfurrowed, his lips atremble as the tender pity Obi-Wan had felt for the boy --- _man ---_ on the commons at Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy surged to the fore, mixed with profound respect. _He doesn't want to risk hurting me ... or losing me ... _"Never. You'll never lose me, Anakin."_ Oh, I'll join the Force one day, most likely before you, but even then I will wait for you. I won't be far. _

"_Now?"_ Anakin asked it aloud, Obi-Wan was sure of it.

"Now!" And then they were cartwheeling, spinning, bouncing in a frenzy of lust and love and all that went with it.

In the midst of his battery against Obi-Wan's thighs, Anakin spared a belated look around the troop compartment --- _no sharp edges, shouldn't get more than a bruising from this ---_ before once again throwing himself whole-heartedly into the fray.

Obi-Wan clamped and clenched and did all he could think of. He didn't care anymore about finesse. _Flying in space, it's fascinating, _he thought right before he came. Ropy strings of come shot between his fingers, not stopping until reaching the opposite wall over by the 'fresher. The equal and opposite reaction pushed the two lovers into the back of one of the clone's plasticine seats. A moment later, Anakin bit hard enough to make his own Aurek initial on Obi-Wan's bicep as he stiffened even more, if possible, and came. A timeless period began at that point and didn't end until Tatooine's approach chimed on the navicomputer panel.

"Gonna use the Force frivolously, Master."

"Go right ahead."

"No demerits? No refectory cleanup duty?"

"Nope."

"Since when do you say 'nope'?"

"Since last night."

"Gravity's coming back in a minute. Brace yourself."

"'Gravity' as in 'a natural force' or 'gravity' as in 'seriousness'?"

"Both, I'm afraid."

"Ah." Anakin Felt the derezzing tool, lifted it, reversed its frequency and slid it into the morrin stabilizer's field. The gravity generators hummed to life, their slow rejuvenation adjusted by a safety algorithm. Anakin pulled his and Obi-Wan's lazily entwined bodies over to the rows of the clones' seating area and they separated from their loose embrace, sinking onto abutting seats as gravity pulled them back into duties.

"Good morning, Master."

"Good morning, Padawan."

"Do I look as full as I feel?"

"You should. That last time was the best of all." Obi-Wan sighed. "Another dinner excursion to the Elfin Sprite is in store for Luminara. I'll go broke again this month."

"I'll bring Barriss and we could have a double date."

"Wonderful. I thought if anyone, though, you would prefer escorting the Senator."

"Oh, _I_ don't _think_ so."

After chasing each other with the portable sonic showerhead, Obi-Wan and Anakin dressed and prepared to meet Cliegg Lars and his family at their homestead as per prior arrangement. Never effusive, Cliegg had beamed wholeheartedly this morning at the sight of Anakin's face on their two-dimensional comm station while Owen nodded with pleasure and Beru waved her wedding band at Anakin from the background. _Some parts of Tatooine are ... more than passable,_ thought Anakin twenty minutes later as he strode down the ramp to a hug from Beru and firm handshakes from Cliegg and Owen. "Lars family, Cliegg, Owen and Beru, may I present my Master, General Obi-Wan Kenobi." Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at Anakin's use of his title and bowed. The Lars family bowed back, Cliegg doing the best obeisance that he could manage from his hoverchair.

"So, why are you hunting the Tuskens?" Cliegg speared a jakrab chunk and chewed on it loudly. Obi-Wan noticed that Cliegg's eyes followed Beru as she rose awkwardly from the plain dinnertable, his gaze coming to rest on her slightly thickened waistline._ Oh. New life. The Mother would be pleased. _"They'd better not give us any more trouble. Last year was ... was ... "

"I know, Cliegg. With my Master's help, I may be able to pacify any problems _before _they start this season." Anakin had sought Obi-Wan's advice about how to broach the delicate subject of reparations with Shmi's widower. They had come up with a plan together, with Anakin doing nearly all the talking to the family. Obi-Wan contented himself with listening to Anakin's voice, with an eye to a later critique.

The river adjudicated.

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	95. Chapter 95

Part Ninety-Five

The next morning's not-yet-harsh sunslight slanted across Anakin and Cliegg and Shmi's grave. "You'll comm me when it's all over."

It wasn't a request. Anakin didn't bristle, however. "Yes."

"I can't look at them anymore, you know. We used to see them sometimes on the ridge over there" --- he pointed --- "right at sunsup. Shmi and I would get up before dawn like we always did, drink our caf on the top step of the compound and look around at the land. The land. Heh."

"_Your land._ Cliegg, Mom looked happy in the vids you sent. The land and _you_ made her happy."

There was no need for thanks and Cliegg didn't offer any. "Tell them to stay away. Tell them the one-who-survived-the-Bloodrite-torture-the-longest's tomb will open and suck them in and the half-man in the saddle-that-floats will pursue them and _never stop._" Cliegg's breath hoarsened and he paused to cough. "Tell them they can have their Hubba melons and waterskins in payment not to raid here, but do one thing for me, Anakin Skywalker: _Don't_ give them any mushrooms, dried or uncured, vaporator or Gafsa well varieties. Do that much in honor of your Mom." He reached down to wipe grit from Shmi's weathered stone. "She was picking mushrooms for our breakfast that morning ... it was even earlier than usual. She'd wanted to surprise me, Beru figured out when it was all over with, when _she_ was all over with ... "

"I know, Cliegg." After touching his mother's etched name, Anakin leaned on Cliegg's chair and rose from his knees. The chair bobbed under the extra weight. He clamped a hand on Cliegg's shoulder.

"You coming back?" Cliegg squeezed Anakin's hand and held on tight.

_All the time you need there, take without counting._ "I'll ... see, Cliegg. We need to do this for your farm and all the others in this area." Anakin had not told the Lars about his vengeance. It might reinforce hatreds, and he had had enough of hatred. "I'll comm you for sure. We'll go to look now for the water and Hubba melons."

"Don't let them cheat you, son. Five wupiupi apiece for melons, three truguts for waterskins ought to do it."

_Sweet of him._ Mom had picked a good man. "Thanks, Cliegg."

"Pick out something for Beru and the baby. Put it on my tab. We'll get it the next time we go to town, if you don't come back here."

"Huh?"

"Beru's pregnant. You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't." _Living Force, you kept your mouth shut on __**this**__ one._ "Congratulate her for me, for us. And Owen, too." Owen was almost exactly Anakin's age and soon to be a father. Like Grunbi on Trow, Owen would lead a peaceful and steady life. Unlike Grunbi, Owen's existence would be bound by sand, not a river. There would be a few rough spots, some whirlwinds, and they would be dealt with until Owen's own end beneath the sand. "We need to go. I'll be in touch, Cliegg."

"Goodbye, son."

Anakin trotted up the Courier's ramp. Obi-Wan ran the preflight check industriously in the co-pilot's seat. "Guess what? Beru's pregnant!"

"Mmmmhm."

"Did _you _know?"

"Mmmmhm."

"Why doesn't anybody _tell_ me these things?"

Obi-Wan finished the checklist. "That's all right, Anakin. You can't put a thirty-six --- "

" --- year-old head on twenty year-old shoulders, yeah, I realize that." Anakin input the calculations for the short hop to Mos Eisley. "I guess you _are_ the Master, Master."

"And don't you forget it."

Two hours later, one hundred waterskins and six hundred Hubba melons richer and slightly less than two hundred credits poorer, Gafsa canyon's echoes hushed the two Jedi into silence. Anakin pointed his portable scanner to the stone-encrusted well. "They're over the next ridge, out of sight. Plan going into effect ... now," he whispered. From the rigged external sound system on the Courier groaned a reverberating rumble, reaching into subsonics. A mature wounded bantha call, blended with a youngling bantha's cry of distress, floated over the Jundland Wastes. Three hours later, two Tuskens, one marked with a shaman's blue goggles and the other, shorter one most like its apprentice, approached Anakin. Anakin had brushed up on his Huttese.

"Kee chai chai cun kuta?" The shaman spoke first, probably warier than normal about an intrusion so near to their sacred well.

"Je killya um pasa doe beeska wumpa."_ It warned me off, and I brought up killing right away. Good, blunt negotiations._ Two hundred words later, Anakin had explained the reparations. Accompanied by fingers drawing in the sand to clarify the number of items offered, Anakin completed the parley, knowing Obi-Wan had his eyes and the weapons on the Courier trained on the Tuskens in case things got out of hand. The Tuskens agreed to the conditions. They seemed thin to Anakin's eyes; perhaps a famine blighted their existence and they were here at the well to recoup their strength. Anakin couldn't summon the words to convey Cliegg's personal warning, and settled for looking as fierce as he imagined the Tuskens looked under their wrappings.

"Wa wanna coe moulee rah?"

"'When can you expect payment?' Right now."

Anakin raised his mechno-hand and waggled its thumb and pinkie and Obi-Wan opened the Courier's ramp in reply. Two hours later, Obi-Wan and Anakin joined the Lars for after-dinner Tatooni Junko ales under the homestead's pergola, although the two Jedi abstained from the strong drink themselves. Afterwards, Beru showed them their room with its stencils of baby banthas and dewbacks gamboling near the ceiling and trailing down to the wide bed. "It'll be the baby's room, but you can use it as long as you like," she said shyly.

The river acknowledged.

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	96. Chapter 96

Part Ninety-Six

In the four weeks that Obi-Wan and Anakin stayed on Tatooine, Beru's baby bump expanded to a bulge and Anakin freed his memories of his childhood more and more to the scrapbook section of his thoughts. Something to be opened and looked at occasionally, but not dwelled upon. It was too soon to put Shmi's tragedy into the scrapbook. Anakin thought about her every day, living here with Cliegg, befriending Beru, mothering Owen for all the years of his adolescence. He kept Shmi's memory alive. During their visits to Mos Espa, nearly everyone he knew had resettled with different owners or, like Jira, had died. Watto remained, obstreperous as ever. He hadn't bought any more slaves. The heat of the long days made for leisurely amorous early mornings. It was after a particularly athletic session between the sheets back at the Lars homestead that Anakin noticed Obi-Wan's right hand trembling longer than it should have after Obi-Wan had climaxed.

"Here." Anakin tossed the moistened cloth to Obi-Wan after using it. Obi-Wan wiped himself without saying a word. "How are you feeling, Master?"

"I'm feeling great, fantastic and marvelous all rolled up into one. The clear desert air, all this relaxation has done me _so_ much good ... "

Obi-Wan nattered on. _His smile is entirely too bright._ The tremor didn't fully stop until Obi-Wan gathered the Force to him. "Excuse me, Anakin. Be right back, darling." He rose from their bed, swayed a little, said, "Got up too quick," and headed for the 'fresher next to the small closet.

He and Obi-Wan were pleasantly surprised to have their own 'fresher, something Owen recently installed for the Lars nursery. It saved awkward revelations in the passageway. Anakin didn't know _what_ Cliegg and Owen and Beru thought, and the Lars were too polite to pry. All in all, it was the thick adobe walls of the compound that saved Obi-Wan and Anakin from enduring knowing looks or fits of giggling. Life here had a rhythm as old as time: up at dawn, meditation, make love, breakfast with the family. Most mornings, they joined Owen and Cliegg, heading to work in a landspeeder, crowded shoulder to shoulder, Cliegg's chair strapped onto the fender. Anakin increased vaporator production by eight per cent, Obi-Wan learned much at his side, and the Lars said little, but looked their thanks. Anakin rigged a vegetable steamer for Beru by rewiring an automatic Kopi tea brewer and Obi-Wan led her through some basic pain relieving exercises and meditations for the ongoing pregnancy, as well as for when labor began. He told her privately about a Calming-Down kata he had used with a ten year-old Anakin. She laughed a long time over it, and promised to use it when he had adapted it for a non-Force-sensitive child.

Obi-Wan closed the 'fresher door firmly after himself and locked it, something he had taken to doing lately. Anakin frowned at him when he emerged. "Master, we need to leave tomorrow." It came out more authoritative than he meant.

Obi-Wan agreed readily. "Yes. Dooku and Grievous have had their setbacks, but they aren't captured yet. I'm concerned about Jabiim. The environment would wreak havoc on our armor."

"I don't think we'll be sent to Jabiim." _Keep on talking about the war. Keep it all business._ "Maybe back to Muunilinst for a recon mission."

Obi-Wan held his right hand with his left one and nodded. He rose to dress, saying something under his breath that sounded like "need to be ... to _be_ effective," but Anakin ignored it. They ate a usual solid breakfast of Beru's --- no stoneslugs here --- and finished the day uneventfully. Beru sucked in her breath at their dinnertime announcement of departure. Cliegg and Owen offered them a Tatooni Junko in a farewell toast and for once the two Jedi partook. It did nothing for them.

The next morning was, as usual, clear and warmer. "Goodbye, goodbye, take care, brother ... "

"Come back to see us, the war can't last forever ... "

Cliegg pulled Anakin's sleeve so that Anakin would need to lean down. "Keep the cooling duct closed next time you come, ah, for a visit. Embarrassed Owen a little." Cliegg remained straight-faced. _"I_ don't care what you do as long as you don't do it in the compound and frighten the eopies. You're a good boy."

xxxxx

Two and-a-half days later, Luminara smoothed Obi-Wan's right thumb into his palm and folded the fingers on top of it. "How's that?"

"It's all right, Lulu. No shakes."

_Lulu?_ "And you've been reciting your lesson twice daily? Taken your vitamins?"

"Yep."

_Over a month of this. Time to call for help._ "Obi-Wan, I'm calling in Master Koon. It's time" --- she smiled encouragingly --- "we got you well." _If Koon's imprinting technique has caused this, I'll ... I'll ... ice up his mask. _

Obi-Wan swung his legs as he squirmed on the exam table. "Tomorrow's the picnic, Lulu. I don't want to miss it. Can't it wait?"

She hadn't seen that pleading look on Obi-Wan's face in thirty years. "Very well. I'll go over your case with Master Koon in the meantime and we'll hypothesize its etiology."

"Big words, Lulu." Obi-Wan's lower lip protruded.

"We'll think about you and try to --- no, we _will_ --- figure out why your body is doing this."

Obi-Wan whooped, jumped down from the exam table and ran out the door. It barely had time to open for him. At Luminara's bewildered look, Anakin shouted over his shoulder as he followed his Master at a gallop, "Delayed intoxication from a Tatooni Junko three days ago. You should have seen him in hyperspace this morning. Worse than the Yimpian incident!" He tore off down the hallway.

The river imbibed.

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	97. Chapter 97

Part Ninety-Seven

The morning of the Republic Day Jedi Annual Picnic and Open Temple Tour dawned with its usual golden and pink glory. Not only was Obi-Wan feeling better after recovering from his bout with intoxication, he was looking forward to seeing Quinlan Vos, who was returning for a brief leave before shipping out again. After completing his Morning Wood kata with a luxurious stretch, Obi-Wan found both hands trembling at the expectation of seeing his friend and so he accessed Luminara's revised directive, breathing deeply. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, Councilmember, Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Anakin Skywalker," he said aloud. "I am the Negotiator. These things are all that I need be in the Force. I do _not_ need to feel any deeper than I must to be effective, and if I do, I will not _be_ effective. For the Force's, Anakin's, my own, and the Order's sake ... " _I like __**this**__ sequence better_.

Anakin entered from the 'fresher, toweling his hair. "Hangover?" he asked in a considerate whisper. Obi-Wan had used the Force in some unusual ways yesterday.

"None."

Anakin sat on the edge of the bed, his weight pressing the covers against his Master's outline. He continued to dry his hair to have something to do; it wasn't as if his bristles needed it. "Master, you Force-leaped from the mezzanine level of the Temple yesterday."

"I was under the influence of the Tatooni Junko ale, and the operative word here is 'Force'; I sustained no injury."

"Well, _I _did. Twisted my ankle while I was chasing you down the thoroughfare. What were you after, anyway?" Anakin dropped the towel on the bed in a soggy heap, but Obi-Wan didn't complain.

"I heard the frozen confection vendor's transport and I wanted something cold to suck on after sojourning in desert heat, that's all."

"Oh. Sorry you couldn't catch up to it."

"As am I, but the Phlog female kin-group with their prams got in my way." _There are no ugly babies, there are no ugly babies ..._

"I'll bring you some Herglic algae ice cream at the picnic today ... _waaaaaiiiit_ a minute. How did you hear the transport's tinkling in the Temple, from _inside_ Master Lu's office? I didn't hear it."

_Yes, how__** did **__I? _Obi-Wan's voice remained smug. "As a Master, there are a few things I haven't told you yet, Anakin. Something for you to look forward to."

Obi-Wan swung his legs around Anakin's bottom, sat up and pulled on his undergarments, having no trouble fastening the underarm seams with his right hand, Anakin noticed. Anakin stood up and retrieved the towel from the bed; he wasn't in the mood for another towel-snapping game. "What is that?" he asked, spying a parcel with _Another Fine Custom-fitted Item From Eastport's Customizing Boutique, Located Inside The Spacers' Lounge, Which Customizes YOUR Shopping And Intoxicant Experience _blaring from its otherwise tasteful white chipboard surface.

Obi-Wan clutched the large box to his chest protectively, then sighed. "It _was_ a surprise for you. Close your eyes." Anakin closed his eyes, hearing provocative rustling, the sliding of cloth against something slicker, like nerf leather. His imagination danced overtime. "Open them." Anakin did. Fully clothed, arms akimbo, Obi-Wan had a sly grin on his face. "Like them?"

Boots. New white boots, made from something softer and thinner than the Quartermaster's issue, graced Obi-Wan's feet. _Like in the vision, the cobbler's offering that looked in the beginning like Jedi standard-issue, but which I see now are flagrantly, outrageously non-standard. _"Gorgeous!" Obi-Wan did a step-slide-slide-kick and the fringe folding over just below his knees swayed enticingly. _Unifying Force, I'm getting better at perceiving you. _"Shall we be off, then?"

"I'll bring our covered dish."

xxxxx

"Knight Kenobi!"

Dimmie and Beebar and some unfamiliar teens of varying species, one carrying a holocamera with its primary tail, trooped up to Obi-Wan and Anakin's blanket. To the Jedi's delight, the youthfully-dressed tourists smiled and bowed gracefully. Beebar's sporty cape flapped in the afternoon breeze. "I'm sorry we didn't visit sooner. Coruscant's busier than we thought. I get to park speeders at the Outlander. Some of them even have orbital capability, and they _pay_ me for it!" He looked astounded at his good fortune.

"Coruscant's so big!" chirped Dimmie. "I found work right away. I even served at a banquet and guess who was there!" She didn't wait for an answer. "The Supreme Chancellor!"

Anakin looked away at the crowd. It was larger than he'd ever seen at one of these things, Jedi mixing with other Republic citizens freely. _We're still here, Palpatine, __**sir**__. You didn't kill us._ He summoned up a smile for Dimmie's enthusiasm, if nothing else. "That's nice."

"Y'see, he'd dropped his zog and I handed it back to him ever so nicely _meself _--- "

"Dimmie, what's that you have there?" Obi-Wan broke in. Some variety of comestibles would be welcome, because Jocasta Nu had misorganized their Masters' section of the potluck and everyone had brought protato salad.

Dimmie squatted and placed a plasticine bowl on their blanket, nestling it in amidst the bags of cracknuts and puffpackets of muja juice. She thumbed open its seal and beamed with pride. "It's me mother's recipe, though I _did _have to substitute ingredients some."

It was nutrient paste, almost glowing in heaps of purple sludge. "Dive in!" Beebar said cheerfully. All the teens stuck a finger or tentacle into the goo, sucking lustily at the mucilaginous paste. Obi-Wan and Anakin followed suit. It was demolished in minutes.

Obi-Wan shaded his eyes and looked up at the sun. "You've got time to make the last tour, kids! Better hurry!" With laughs and grins and giggles, the group scurried off. The teen with the holocamera panned it widely over the crowd to preserve the memory of cavorting Jedi in this prestigious event that occurred only annually. Obi-Wan arranged their umbrella to shade himself from a recurrence of sunburn.

The late afternoon sun warmed Anakin's mechno-hand as he reclined, nibbling on barbecued brot-rib whose sauce wouldn't quit burning his lips. Through the implants, its sensors registered the sun's heat to the section of his awareness that controlled their input as 'temperate for humans, high for Mirialans, frigid for Mustafarians,' until he pressed 'reset' on the second knuckle of its middle finger with his thumb. He didn't need to think about traveling into the war zone yet. Obi-Wan's health came first. With Dooku establishing a staging area on Alliga and Grievous' droid supply problems, the war went at least the same before their leave on Tatooine. Pehaps a bit better. Kamino's new clones showed more initiative than the first batch.

"Time for your scramball exhibition, too, Anakin. Off with you."

"Aren't you going to watch?"

"I see enough of you in action. I'm going to take a nap."

The river snoozed.

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	98. Chapter 98

Part Ninety-Eight

Before his Fall, Dooku gave the Temple Tour for many years. He always loved describing the history more than the ongoing life of the Temple. When his ideals led him to drop 'Master' before his name and substitute 'Count,' Jocasta Nu led the tours, using Dooku's speech nearly word for word. Twenty minutes ago, she had sprained an ankle in the three-appendage race and Healer Unduli instructed her to rest for the few hours it took until the swelling subsided completely. Yoda stepped in. "Constructed over four thousand years ago, this Temple was, but our first temple, it was not. A place of memory, it is. A place of _change,_ it is. Events greatly affecting our Council's position on many things, large and small, taken place in only _my_ lifetime, they have." The crowd goggled at the view out the splendid bank of windows.

"How old _are_ y--- " asked a dark-skinned female, barely post-pubescent, before her friend clamped a tentacle over her mouth and bared its beak in apology.

Yoda chuckled. "Not too old to learn. Depart from our usual speech, I shall, to spend more time in Jedi philosophy than in architecture." The same female groaned, along with her companions. _Hmmph. Manners, they need. _"Our ... faith, some call it, means studying and using the mystical ways of the Force. Know of the Force, some of you do." A very few beings in the crowd acknowledged the truth of the Force in the various ways of their native cultures. Yoda smiled nostalgically. "My own training, I can bring up at will on every subject I have been taught. Less sure I am of things I have learned in nearly nine hundred" --- the crowd gasped --- "standard years of existence. Some lessons, stand out, they do" ---_ swim on a full stomach, do not; fly without calculating hyperspace jumps first, do not ---_ "yet the lesson I want to teach the most, learned late in life, it was: Attachments can lend strength to a Jedi when the Jedi path, impossible to walk, it seems." The crowd gasped once more. Yoda waited for their recovery. "Steps on our path, taken one at a time, they are. Not hops, but gliding steps." The crowd stilled in that way that any classroom had when the lesson shot directly over their heads. Yoda's centuries of teaching experience came to his aid. _Relate to what is known. "_Question _I_ have for friend of young female with propensity for nosy questions." The crowd tittered uncertainly.

"Yes, sir." The male fingered the edges of his up-to-the-minute fashionable cloak. "I, I mean, ask away."

"When flying your Incom T-16 skyhopper and suborbital you are, how change direction, do you?"

"I use the brakes."

"I see. Come to complete stop, turn your skyhopper manually in new direction, then accelerate until top velocity again you acquire?"

The young man said seriously, "No, sir, I fly speeders for a living. I'll be clearer. I brake going into a curve, glide around the curve, and accelerate out of it."

"This young being, free meal for himself and all his friends at the Manarai restaurant in Monument Plaza, has he won!" Yoda exclaimed. The man stepped back into his group. They gathered around him with subdued cheering. Yoda continued. "Seeing you all here brings warm feelings to my heart. Someone tell me _why_ they came to see the Jedi today."

"Because my folks made me!" one clear voice piped up. The gathering chuckled.

"Honest, the mind of a child is. Honest, I shall be. Changes to the Jedi Order will be in our glide period, because braking to our way has _already_ occurred."_ The clones, standing where I am, blasting, slaughtering, nursery babes dashed to the floor ..._

_"_You mean, you won't wear your bathrobes to work anymore?"

_... babes like you, youngling ... _Yoda roused himself out of the scenes from his last nightmare and laughed along with his audience. "Perhaps. More along the lines of what goes on _underneath_ our robes, I was thinking. Friendship that engenders thoughts of tender touches, more than comradely embraces, long hours devoted to discovering another's exact shape --- "

"Yes, we know what you mean, Master Yoda," chimed in an Ithorian's bass voice. "Will this change in, um, philosophy be involving Jedi only, or will it involve non-Jedi with Jedi as well?"

Yoda choked on his own words. He hadn't considered that. The Force would smooth the course of any Jedi-Jedi relationships. The Force being accessed by one partner only, well ... He frowned, adding another bump to his brow. "Far enough along the curve, I see not. Keep you posted, I will." The Ithorian subsided and Yoda had to wonder if an Ithorian press release were being written in its bulging cranium right now. _Onward. _"See the Room of One Thousand Fountains next, we will, and then the Menagerie. Mind your step when we get down there and tease my kybuck, do not. Feisty, he is today." Yoda's slow steps led the tour deeper into the bowels of the venerable Temple. He had been in the audience during Anakin's debate on attachments. Yoda didn't know whether or not his vision of a revised Jedi Code was planted by the Padawan's debate, but it would not have surprised him. _Upset by "traitors" to the Order, like K'Kruhk, I have been, also. Traitors to the Force, they are not. Good to practice my speech before civilians, it is; the Council will be much tougher crowd. _Yoda shuffled down the hallway to their next stop_. And young Obi-Wan's newfound happiness illuminates the Force around him. Cause for __**that**__, I believe, wears darkest of dark brown robes and plays scramball as I speak. _

_The Dark Side, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! _Joining the tour at the last minute out of curiosity because Siri was a disagreeable companion today, Adi Gallia split off from the group and headed back outside. She told herself to calm down as soul Healer Regork had taught her. _Qui-Gon, you dear, stubborn fool of a Jedi, if you can hear your old friend, give me a sign that it is or isn't the Dark Side involved in these changes!_ Adi waited. Qui-Gon remained at rest. Adi mumbled to herself as she went back to the picnic area for more barbecue.

The river angsted.

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	99. Chapter 99

Part Ninety-Nine

"Gooooal!"

Another score for the opposition, three minutes into the match. Anakin hunkered down for a time-out with two of his old scramball teammates. "Vos is the one to look out for."

"He's tough," agreed Ferus Olin. The six volunteers had rolled a chance cube for picking teams before they began the shortened version of the sport. With a half-strength team of three players, Olin, Veld and Skywalker made up the Astounding Accipipteros while Vos, Secura, and Shylar comprised the Bodacious Bogwings. To honor Master Yoda, both teams were named after reptavians from the planet Dagobah, a world with a mysterious appeal to the Order's Grandmaster. Anakin was pleased this was only a short demonstration match, because the Quartermaster's hastily-made-up sports uniforms with their logos did not fit well. His pinney was too loose while his shorts were too tight. He supposed he hadn't finished growing in some areas of his body and would need to update his measurements with the Uniform Replacement Department. His cleats were his own and being well-broken in, fitted perfectly. Anakin eyed Ferus' powerful build. With a quick mind and admirable reflexes, Olin had matured from a few years ago into a fine teammate and was Jedi to the core. Their teen-aged squabbles Anakin had placed in the scrapbook section of his memories. The gold streak in Olin's hair would make him easy to spot for a pass. Since their demo's rules were for touch scramball only, they needed no helmets.

"Veld, you and Skywalker double-team Shylar. I'll handle Vos and Secura. I know their moves. They always circle the goal. It's predictable, really." Team Captain Olin waggled his bushy eyebrows at Tru humorously, a habit he had consciously developed to make himself appear less stiff. Tru had recovered from his bout with Togorian measles, but only now was getting back into the swing of things and having some fun. _He'll be a liability to a team_, Anakin thought regretfully. _I've got to shore up our offense._

Tru grinned his wide grin at Ferus and Anakin, for once not saying much. He knew the game well, though, and his limber doublejointed physique could do remarkable things, like going between human or humanoid opponents' legs with just a wiggle and ripple of his supple spine. "Look over there," he giggled. Without pointing rudely, he gestured with a jerk of his head. "Knight Fee is making sure we don't dig up too many divots with our cleats." Sure enough, the Temple gardener stood in an uncrowded part of the green, hands cupping his elbows. Anakin couldn't see from here, but he supposed there was a slight scowl marring the man's handsome face. _For a Living Force type, he sure worries a lot._ The whistle blew. Ferus, Tru and Anakin nodded a 'yes' to their gameplan, slapped each other's behinds and trotted back to the match.

From a twenty-minute demo, an amazingly intricate game grew until Obi-Wan awakened from his post-prandial nap at the hubbub. He meandered over to the playing field after a stop at the dessert table, selecting a slice of air cake to enjoy as he watched the last five minutes of the match. As he mingled with the onlookers, he spotted Luminara and Plo Koon in deep discussion.

"How did you come up with your technique, Plo?" _Its purpose is very unlike your personality. _"And thanks for the help. I put off going to New Holstice until Obi-Wan's return from Tatooine. It's discouraging that he isn't recovered by now."

Plo was as earnest as a physicist could be. "You're welcome. Purely scientific reasons, Luminara. We've used the Force imprinting technique to find our way in untracked wilderness for a few decades now. It took some serious tweaking for mobile living beings to imprint on each other rather than on such things as mineral fractals in the soil, plant root diagrams or topography. Living flesh does contain minerals, though, and their proportions can be sensed and mapped onto a Jedi's mind so that a partner will always be able to find its mate." Plo scanned the game. Normally, he programmed his comm station to his favorite sports feed; _All The Galaxy's Sports, All The Time_ statistics seeped into his consciousness without effort and were duly organized. _Hmmm. Last night's pro scramball match didn't have anything on the Accipipteros. Look at Skywalker score!_

Luminara followed his gaze. Anakin's golden body sidestepped Vos for another attempt on goal. She held her breath --- _missed it! ---_ then focused again on Plo. "What did you first research when I commed you with his case file?" _Please don't overdo the honesty and tell me that you picked someone's brain. I'd have to report you._ _Or at least I'd feel obligated to._

"My original notes, along with the updated comms from the eighteen successful imprinting couples" --- _couples? odd term ---_ "and the two failures."

_He's honest, anyway. _"Yes, about those, Plo. How were they diagnosed?"

Plo folded his hands around his macrobinoculars to see a scrimmage at the far end of the field. "Hmmm? Oh. One partner of a Master/Padawan couple grew despondent over the failure of the technique and moped around the Temple for weeks before coming to see me. The other failure was of an imprinting couple who were long-time friends. Each partner showed different symptoms. Partner Aurek" --- Luminara knew who it was; the whole Temple knew, but Plo was being discreet in the mixed Jedi/non-Jedi throng --- "fixated on Partner Besh's safety. Commed her several times daily. Tasted her refectory food to smooth any lumps in her breakfast Ugorian spore-gruel. Partner Besh refused to allow Partner Aurek to pilot herself, took to escorting her everywhere, from outings with friends to appointments with _me. _They could not separate without psychic trauma. It took six weeks of intensive telepathic debriefing before the cure."

"So it was arduous, but you _did_ secure a course of treatment?"

"Look at that! Look at that broken-field run! Go, Vos! _Ruuunnnnn_, Quinlan!"

"Plo."

"Noooo! He's checked, he's tagged out ... "

"Plo!"

The Kel Dor answered without lowering his macrobinoculars or turning to her. "Luminara, I constructed the technique purely as a scientific experiment. _I, myself,_ never would choose to be that close to _anyone_. If your _friend _Obi-Wan displays similar symptoms and you have been treating them as purely psychosomatic, perhaps I can sense telepathically any complications. It can be with or without the patient's consent, if the situation is severe."

_You're an ass, but I'll use your expertise anyway. _Luminara watched the game. It was the final minutes of play. The Bodacious Bogwings were tied up with the Astounding Accipipteros. Suddenly the action was directly in front of them in a tackleless maneuver that nonetheless was thrilling to watch. Shylar's pinney was half-untied as she ran full out with the ball cradled in the curl of her right arm, long kinky hair streaming behind her. As arresting to view were Vos' flying dusky braids, whirling as he twirled deftly in and out of the wedge. A goal denied here would mean a tie, allowed in a demo match, but not in regular competitive play. Vos defended his offensive teammate Shylar on one side, Secura defended on the other, her lekku seemingly with lives of their own as they bounced on her shoulders. Defending the Accipipteros' goal were Anakin and Ferus, twin towers of fortitude alike in stature, glaring almost Masterly glares at the incoming attack. Tru held the position of goalie, certainly an asset to defense because of his marvelous ability to bend and block a shot. Close-in-to-the-goal action, though, might prove problematical because his recent weakening illness might make him _too_ pliable. His body could give in a sustained push on goal, allowing the thirty-centimeter diameter ball to touch the goal line _inside_ the net and thus score.

The Astounding Accipipteros and Bodacious Bogwings teams were as serious at this demo as in any other endeavor they'd attempted as Jedi. Maybe it was the frustrating war, maybe it was the shouting crowd, whatever the reason, Anakin found he wanted to _win._ Or at least tie. He quashed all notion of using the Force --- though it would make a terrific demonstration to Push the opposition unexpectedly and make them fly like real bogwings --- as he planted his cleats and crouched in a classic defensive pose. _Stand firm._ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ferus mirror his stance and sensed Tru, a jittery presence behind him, figuring any weak spots that their bulwark wouldn't cover.

On rolled Vos in a charge, his cleats pumping out divots behind him. _Yoland Fee will take him to task._ Vos brought up his left arm for a straight-arm shove that skirted the rules, while his right arm distracted Anakin in a 'come-on' gesture that could only mean 'Faster!' to his fellow Bogwings. Anakin planted his feet more widely, ducked Vos' straight arm and grabbed his waist as if in a forbidden tackle. Shocked at the supposed violation of rules, Vos slowed his momentum and clamped his right arm, tense with outrage, on Anakin's left shoulder. Vos' momentum and his stiffened right arm let Anakin bend backwards slightly away from the attack but into the direction of motion even more to hoist the Kiffar over his head, trusting that the man's Jedi reflexes would turn the headlong toss into a walkover, which the astonished Vos did. Walking over not only Anakin --- Anakin felt Vos' head do a skull-to-skull roll, parietal bones together, then occiputs and then off, trailing the vines of his braids against Anakin's pinney --- but also the goal, with more impetus supplied by Anakin's grasp of Vos' left foot in a boosting step-up movement, Vos landed his unintended acrobatic display with only a slight wobble and bowed to the onlookers. Anakin recovered his equilibrium and the crowd roared in approval.

Anakin focused now on Tru and Ferus. Shylar's attempt on goal was imminent as Secura swarmed all over Ferus as roughly as the rules allowed and he stood his ground against her. Her lesser mass meant that he did not need to resort to Anakin's tactics. It was enough to absorb her charge. Secura kept Ferus occupied as Shylar homed in on the goal. Anakin reached for her, but she twisted and cocked her arm. Tru presented his best defense, locking all the joints in his strong arms for a handstand and cursing the demo rule that said a goalie could use only his lower limbs when in the crease. His agile legs windmilled, the cast was made, the ball hit his rippling right knees. The shot was blocked. The whistle blew. Secura stopped her squirming. Shylar stuck her tongue out at Tru and laughed merrily right before Vos scrambled around the goal, saw the situation, and relaxed in relief. "Whew! Great match!" He slapped Anakin's rump. That was when Anakin discovered his skin-tight shorts had not enough stretchability to accommodate his athleticism and had split at the back seam.

_Physics, _mused Plo Koon. _Too much strain on a material and its integrity failed._

The river explained.

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	100. Chapter 100

Part One Hundred

Quinlan Vos' braids had puzzled Anakin from the beginning. "Didn't Master Vos _want_ to lose the braided look when he passed his Trials?"

"Quinlan has his own style, Padawan. Jedi may be individuals. You've been in the Order months now, long enough to realize that. Back on subject, think about what I suggested, please."

For himself, Anakin couldn't wait to achieve Knighthood and lose the braid. At nine and-a-half, his smallish braid and Knight's tail prickled his cheek and arm when he lay his head down on them each night, curled into a ball next to Master's pillow in their wide bed. Anakin had never owned a pillow before and refused to use one. Master said there were fillets to keep hair smooth, but Anakin had been embarrassed to look "silly." "I don't think so, Master."

Obi-Wan came to realize that picking battles was an important part of living with a youngling in the 'tweens. "It's dark when you would need it, and at any rate, I'm the only one who would ever see you wear it," Obi-Wan went on stubbornly, despite himself. Anakin's tossing and turning at night needed _some_ remedy, and his kicking was a Trial perhaps taking the place of Obi-Wan's curtailed official ones.

_"No._ Please."

_But Master would see me in it. _Obi-Wan read between the lines. Obi-Wan was learning to Master and after seven months understood better his bashful charge's sensibilities. A youngling who needed someone in the same bedroom to sleep through the night, not to mention the same bed, needed extra understanding. Master Ali-Anann spent one entire day playing with Anakin and said later to go along with whatever the youngling wanted; after a year, changes could be made. Ali-Anann was off by two years. At age twelve, one day from out of nowhere, Anakin announced that he wanted his own bed, complete with pillow. He was bigger in the bed then, though not as restless, and Obi-Wan was not sorry to see him go.

"Obi-Wan, I saw you with Anakin today."

Obi-Wan started. _Leave the past, Obi-Wan. Quinlan is sitting next to you, remember?_ "Well, of course you did, Quinlan. We live together." Anakin, good Padawan that he was, was rummaging through the cooler at the dessert table for the Herglic algae ice cream he had promised to bring Obi-Wan.

"No ... oooooh!" Quinlan watched the fireworks along with his friend on their rumpled picnic blanket. The umbrella lay folded on the grass beside it.

"Ahhhhh!" Simple pleasures. _Bright lights ... funny they don't hurt my eyes tonight._ "Look, a krayt dragon!" Obi-Wan had seen them only on xenobiology specials on the HoloNet.

The breeze had freshened. Quinlan sat closer to his friend. "I mean, you and he are different together."_ I'm rusty at this. Been around gray Jedi, Turned Jedi, and spies too long. I miss my friends. _

Obi-Wan played with the umbrella fringe. "He's more mature, twenty now, you know. Still growing, I think. You haven't seen him in a while."

"True. The war's eating me alive, Obi." Darkness was total now, the last indigo gone from the sky. A flash of blue-white turned Quinlan's yellow tattoo into a phosphorescent bifurcating brand on his face. "I ship out again day after tomorrow."

"We go a long way back, Quin. Care to unload on me?" Obi-Wan lay back on his elbows. "Ooooh! Flameflowers!"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Pish. I _am_ on the Council."

Quinlan laughed boisterously. "Same old Obi. Literal, serious to a fault, _dull" _--- he eyed the aurodium medallions across the instep of the white boots as they gleamed in the fireworks' flare --- "or maybe not so dull. Care to unload on _me?"_

_Not even with you._ "I've felt different lately, yes."

Quinlan closed his eyes. The fireworks glowed a dull red against the inside of his eyelids. "You're ... happier. Concerned about something, but happier in general." He opened his eyes. "What about me?"

Obi-Wan didn't need to close his eyes. Surges of images swamped his Force-sense, too much to See; he shut them out to concentrate on tactile and auditory input. One set eclipsed all the others. "She's wiry, but soft in all the right places. She has scarification around her navel that you traced last week. She moans when you tickle her above her --- "

"Stop, Obi! Stop!" Quinlan shifted away from his friend, the dazzling firework grand finale forgotten. "_How" --- BOOM! --- "_-ctly can you" --- _crackle! ---_ "-cking" --- _blam! ---_ "-nse so specifica-" --- _hss pop! pop! pop! pop! ---_ "what I did?"" The fireworks ended. The crowd rolled up blankets and put sleepy younglings on shoulders for the trek out of the Temple grounds. Some too-dutiful Jedi began cleaning up.

_It isn't that big of a mystery._ "We're old friends, you're broadcasting deliberately, we're _physically_ close, I am a Master, after all ... "

Quinlan pulled his cloak around him. The breeze had grown to an unlikely bluster, a glitch in the master weather controls, he surmised. "It's unusual. It's almost frightening."_ What a spy he would make for Master Tholme!_

"Never."

"I mean it. It's true that I have an attachment to someone. Now you know it. You're a member of the Council. What will you do?"_ He loves the Code so much, you'd think he'd written it. I'm in deep ---_

"I don't tell them everything, Quin. It'll stay confidential." Obi-Wan sensed Quinlan's renewed ease and smiled. _Speaking of confidential, I have a bit of news for Anakin tonight._

xxxxx

" --- _gasp --- guhhh --- _Stars' _End,_ Anakin, you and your imagination --- "

"Liked that, did you?" Anakin reattached his mechno-arm and lay down on the sweaty sheets. _Good thing my arm is protected against shorting out from moisture._

"An understatement." Obi-Wan rolled over to face Anakin toe-to-toe, face-to-face. "I love you."

"Why?"

_Did he __**guess**__ that I was going to tell him why tonight? Obi-Wan, shields up ... no, shields down. All the way down. _"I'm going to tell you why now."

"You're just 'Master' to me, you don't need to ... "

"But I'm going to. I love you, Anakin Skywalker, for your grace, your gifts in the Force, your laugh, the way that you make me feel, and for your circumspection." _There. He was ready to hear it._

"And I love you back, for your caring, and your freckles, and for the way that you stir your Kopi tea to make those tinkly sounds like bells ... Kriff, Master, I'm not good at this, you could negotiate your way into love with billions of words and I can't. But it really doesn't matter, does it?"

"No. And I know of a marvelous way to celebrate what, wh-what we just said."

"So do I, but it's too soon."

"Let's get tattooed! Quinlan got me to thinking. A little one, right here." Obi-Wan touched Anakin's nipple. "That way, it will be camouflaged, only you and I will know about it, and when I suck it I'll remember this night."

"You mentioned _my_ imagination? What would you choose, if we go do it?"

Obi-Wan had thought for hours. "A _naynabo_ flower."

_Yeah._ "Works for me."

The river inked.

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	101. Chapter 101

Part One Hundred One

It wasn't until Obi-Wan woke up Anakin by calling brokenheartedly for his mother that Anakin truly began to worry. It happened directly after the picnic, before they generally awoke anyway, on the cusp of the day. Temple routines being what they were, dawn became the preferred awakening time for humans or humanoids or near-human Jedi. Yoda slept when he could, which was more, lately, now that the Dark Side shaded away from smothering black into chiaroscuro. Dooku's smaller blight on the Force would embarrass his considerable pride when the Count of Serenno was taken into custody. Yoda would sleep even better then.

"Mom! Mom!" Obi-Wan's mumble became a shout. "I'm not too late! I'm not!"

Anakin slept heavily in just-post-adolescent slumber, but not heavily enough to sleep through _this._ "Master, what ... "

"Mom! Don't die! I'm here! Nonononoooo ... "

"Master Obi-Wan, wake up!"

"Mom, I'm a Jedi! I came for you just like I said I would, _please_ stay with me!"

_Crack!_ The baseboard heater came on and the temperature change made its usual metal plate_ crack-hissss _noises. Anakin jumped. "Obi-Wan! _Wake up!"_ Birds twittered, a brook babbled. Scents of flameflowers tickled Anakin's nose. The _Wake Up Naturally, Every Time!_ program got into full swing with a _click!_ from the kitchen, the caf brewer going off. A moment later, caf's delicious aroma filtered through to their bedroom. Anakin's mod to the program, The Morning March's brass from the Jedi Drum and Bugle Corps,would come next. Anakin raised his hand and stopped every part of the program with the Force.

"Mmmmm. Padawan. Hi. 'Morning." Obi-Wan scrubbed drool from his beard with the back of his hand. "Mmmmmrggghhh. Our leftover protato salad gave me indigestion."

"Master, you were dreaming."

"Really?" Obi-Wan hacked his way into a more normal voice, sniffling as his sinuses dictated most mornings. "Sorry to wake you up. Was I snoring again, too?" _Stayed out in the night air watching fireworks until late. Obi-Wan, you congested hedonist. _

"I don't know, but you were having a nightmare, like, like" --- _one of mine ---_ "your mother was dying."

Obi-Wan's eyes opened fully. He rubbed the sand out of their corners. "Anakin, I never knew my mother. I've not dreamed about her before."

_Not even to dream about a mother's love ..._"Never?"

"Never. I've wondered about my parents, like all initiates do at one time or another, nothing else." _This is shocking you. You haven't the sweet memory of being rocked in the nursery by Tahl, on nursery duty before all her troubles began._

Anakin stayed calm. "Could you have been dreaming about _mine?_ Master, do you think our imprinting could be causing this?"

Obi-Wan considered before replying, the way that he usually did. Anakin counted his own heartbeats until he reached twenty. "No. It's an proven imprinting technique Koon showed me on holovid. Its proponents claim that it works when they test it in crowded venues like the scramball finals matches or even simple shopping excursions at the Glitannai Esplanade. Jedi in the field have averted disastrous separations with it. It's a tool that the Force allows. I'm all for it."_ Don't ever want to risk separation from you for long. _"Let's shower and eat and leave. It's that day again. I know I'm on leave, but this isn't strenuous."

_"Take Your Padawan To Work Day," that's right._ "What's left to show me? I've visited the highest spires and the sump pumps in the Menagerie in the basement, the refectory's water recycling processor and the cleaning bot dump, the Archives' holocron display and the Council chamber. I've been in battle at your side. I'm a Senior Padawan, nearing Knighthood, right?"

"Mmmmm." _I don't know about that one._ "We'll see. Since my appointment with Luminara is today and she requested to see you, too, I'll take you with me for my Visiting The Sick duty in the infirmary. The usual chatting up adult patients, playing dumbed-down pazaak with the younglings and giving any unfortunate ill infants new faces to look at. Show me your baby-smile face." Anakin smiled a wide toothy smile. "Should impress any Trandoshan younglings. Come on, up and about, as they say."

"Please wait. I don't think you're taking the dream-coincidence seriously enough. _Why _would you dream about _my _mother?"

"I don't know that I did, but if I did, let's let the Healers deal with it. Up, now." As Obi-Wan sunnily began his shower, Anakin clenched his mechno-hand, then unclenched it. Master Lu would know what to do next.

xxxxx

"Depa. Master Billaba. Depa." Anakin remembered a kind presence, spiritually aflame within the Force. Though no friend to him, she remained a familiar Temple presence, supplementing the powerhouse of the Force that _was_ the Temple. _Nothing. A black hole has __**movement,**__ at least. She has nothing. _A blank two-dimensional plane with infinite height and width loomed in front of his Force-sense. He stretched out with all his senses, hoping to come to the edge of the plane and slip behind it to the one hiding there, hoping for a whisper, a shout. _Nothing._ He wiped a string of drool from the corner of her mouth with the tissues at hand and walked away.

The river feared.

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	102. Chapter 102

Part One Hundred Two

Not one Jedi truly believed that Depa Billaba would awaken from her coma anytime soon, yet she was cared for without anyone ever quite giving up hope. Jedi lived beyond hope many times in their careers, and Luminara put it away from herself resolutely this morning. She paced in her office, a Master in her realm of bodies, souls, and minds. _Don't feel Masterly at the moment. _Luminara dreaded telling Anakin of Obi-Wan's diagnosis, yet to tell the Padawan who was intimately involved _in_ the diagnosis could spare her patient further trauma. She and Plo had spent the night here together, researching esoteric databases in unusual cultures, meditating on their findings, draining cup after cup of caf on Luminara's side, while Plo spritzed dozens of shots of the trace gas his species needed into his antiox mask until he talked extremely fast. As she suspected, even more than Plo did, that Anakin himself was "the complication" Plo had mentioned at the picnic, apprising Anakin of that fact was fair to Anakin and protective of her patient. She only wished herself and Plo to be fully, sublimely wrong about the whole thing. She put away her pride and opened her heart to the young man in her waiting area as widely as she opened her door. "Come in, Padawan."

When Anakin was seated, his spine did not touch the back of his chair. _Can't be helped, it's a tense day. _"Anakin, you're here because Master Koon and I have enumerated Obi-Wan's symptoms and come up with a partial diagnosis."

"Why aren't you telling Master Obi-Wan first?"

"Because I am your Healer as well as his and in this instance you're part" --- _of the problem ---_ "of his cure. When Master Koon telepathically confirms this diagnosis, our first steps in treating your Master will be clearly laid out for us. It seems Obi-Wan's hypersensitivities aren't limited to hoi-broth and various allergens." _Go easy now._ "In many ways, he is mirroring your characteristics and he simply is not right for it. It might --- please wait till I finish --- be placing too great a strain on his entire system and I think the root of it is your imprinting."

"He's been having some things happening before that, things that started on Trow. Like stuttering and weird dreams and almost reading ... my ... mind ... " _This would not happen. __**No.**_

"You see it, then."

_I __**can't**__ be the source of Master's illness. It's not possible._ "Master Lu, he's sensitive, I know that, even 'hypersensitive,' as you term it, but, hypersensitive to his own _Padawan?"_ Master had sensitive spots all over him: the places hidden by his modesty, the places inside that only Anakin had savored, the spot on his scalp where his Knight's tail used to be and where Anakin scratched with his ungloved fingers to make Obi-Wan almost purr. "It's something I want to ask Master Yoda about. You and Master Koon could be wr-- in error about this. It's too important not to ask Master Yoda." Master Yoda would know, if Master Lu and Master Koon failed in their attempt to vivisect his Master today. _Vivisect. Just because it's his mind, doesn't mean that term doesn't apply._

Luminara knew that this morning wasn't going to go well. "Naturally, Master Yoda _is_ the next necessary step, but even if we wind up consulting him, he will need research to base any conjecture upon, Anakin, and our diagnosis is based upon solid research. When you two were on Tatooine, I spent my spare time on this case." _Obs, what would you say to your Padawan, if you were me? Go for the drama?_ "Master Koon is a telepath, a fellow Jedi, a scholar. If, as I believe, his Force-imprinting technique has gone awry in your case, he can fix it. This case would be one of three unsuccessful imprintings, if my surmise is correct. He _has_ cured others. Let him do his job and help me help my friend."

_She's putting things in a nice way, but this isn't a nice situation. Master's mind is, is, __**him.**_ "Will Master Koon's methods hurt him? Make him ... different?" _Like Depa?_

"No, it's like a diagnostic on a droid. It changes nothing, merely shows a static picture of a point in time in the mind. Minds can change, minute by minute, but this will give us a baseline for our work." _Don't fight me, Anakin. We're on the same side, like on Ansion._

"What will happen if he goes on as he is? New lessons, different, stronger medicine ... "

Luminara stood her ground. "I'll not treat him with drugs until I know the full diagnosis. It would be unethical to push anti-spastic drugs into him for a chronic illness. Then he _would_ change, Padawan, and _not_ to your liking." _With Obi-Wan's sensitivities, these drugs' listed side effects of mood swings, loss of mental acuity, and possible psychosis would not be the "rare" side effects, they'd be "highly possible" side effects. _

_More. I want more data. Unifying Force, I need everything you can give me._ "Tell me why _I_ haven't any symptoms, then."

"How have you felt since your imprinting?"_ Plo said the one Master/Padawan imprinted, um, couple, had half of it affected, the other half not._

"Fine. Great." _Except for finding out about my __**Sith friend **__Palpatine and my__** unfaithful friend **__Padmé, who is also my wedded __**wife. **_"With Master Obi-Wan, I mean, I'm great. He's the best, the best ... I, I don't have the words to say it ... "

" ... he's being overcome by his hypersensitivities, Anakin, the blinking of his eyes because lights are too bright, you've told me about his broadcasting at times so that you can sense his memories, he's experiencing your level of Force-awareness without your shields or merely your everyday acclimatization to your abilities. In short, he is becoming you."

Luminara's words faded. Master would always be there for him. That would not change, ever, and with the cutting of his braid, they would be equals. Sharing quarters, going on missions separately or in tandem, attending Republic Day Annual Picnics together with their fellows, his planned life stretched before him in a broad stream, like Gitchy. Full of eddies and whirlpools, no doubt, a waterfall or two, some sluggish spots, yet continuing to flow indomitably to the end of their days. Padmé was an undercurrent pulling unevenly at his construction, yet her presence added to its diversity and always would. With their married relationship in its current disjointed state, her undercurrent might flatten out to an attenuated layer of cool riptide --- Anakin was aware that riptides were oceanic, not riparian, as he struggled on with his metaphor, but continued anyway --- but he didn't see himself completely splitting up from his wife. His status with her would remain second to her work, as he had known almost from the beginning. With Obi-Wan, he was second to the Force. He could think about that more easily. When Anakin's nightmares showed Obi-Wan's death, the event came about through battle or accident or illness, and once in a bittersweet fading away from old age. Never did he dream of a fading away of all that consisted of Obi-Wan occurring in life, a relentless progression to nothingness with the body still present to mourn over endlessly. It was too much to take in, and he cringed. Insanity terrified him like nothing else did.

"No, you're wrong, Master Lu. Master isn't in danger of losing his sanity. It must be something else. Find it!" He was speaking to a Master, but he didn't care. She must be wrong.

Luminara noticed that the fish huddled in a corner of their tank, as far as they could get from Anakin. She rose as he did, standing as straight as could be while Anakin leaned over her desk, fists planted widely, brows drawn down. He glared at her, the Force gathered in a cloud about him, but he had not accessed it yet. It stood at the ready, though. "Padawan Skywalker, remember who and what you are."

_I'm Obi-Wan's, is who, and what, well, we'll see soon enough. _There was danger in her infirmary, not of illness of the usual sort, but illness of a soul should its owner's most heartfelt wish not be granted. Luminara would not tolerate tantrums of any sort, from any age Jedi. If she could withstand a Phlog initiate's breaking through her tile floor to the level below in a fit of pique, she could withstand this. She blazed in the Force in her determination to have order in her realm. The Force was with her, too. "Anakin, hear me. Master Koon will bear witness to this diagnosis."

"Master Lu, there must be better news than this. Find it for me. And for him. I'm not leaving here until you do."

This was _her_ infirmary. "Boy, I'm throwing you out. He's _my_ friend, too. I, however, am the Healer and I'm healing this situation. Get out, Anakin."

Anakin raised his flesh hand and Pushed. Luminara blocked it after a stumble backwards in shock. She Pushed down on Anakin's occiput none too gently and his neck bent forward until the rest of his body had to follow or risk injury. He dropped to one knee and gripped the edge of the desk, a flare of power beginning in his eyes.

Frantic to escape their rectangular prison, the fish leaped as one into the suffocating air.

The river trembled.


	103. Chapter 103

Part One Hundred Three

The fish did not flap even once when they hit the floor. Their small bodies fanned out in a ribbon of dull silver, blasted by a Chosen One's rage.

Luminara stood above the wide-eyed Padawan, ready to exert herself again, but Anakin held himself clenched in a sitting position, rigid with tension. He was still gasping for air, clutching the arms of the chair until the metal creaked. The aquarium bubbled away, no longer filled with life that didn't love, dream, or plan. Luminara thought that if Anakin had that kind of life, he might be more content walking the Jedi path. She realized some beings might consider her own life close to the fishes' and resolved to think about that later.

"Anakin, you are the Chosen One. We don't know what your full abilities are." _And this result from Plo and my research is unsettling for me, for Obi-Wan, for the Order ... stop, Luminara. This is a Padawan before you, not a monster. You've known him since he was a child. He's difficult, emotional, and in love. These things aren't crimes. _Luminara tucked a stray hair under her cowl, which was slightly askew from the tussle. She sat down.

_You're afraid of me._ Anakin portrayed earnestness in as mild a way that he could. He put everything he had into this acting attempt, although he knew that he was a poor thespian. The circumstances driving him made him better at it than he had ever been, and he stilled his worried face, turning large blue eyes on the Healer appealingly.

Luminara recognized the attempt and softened her manner. "Anakin, Obi-Wan isn't powerful enough to shield himself from your presence" _--- she makes me sound like stellar radiation --- _"when you two are _so_ close together. It's as if the whole galaxy is rushing at him" ---_ yeah, that __**is**__ what life feels like sometimes --- _"and it's destroying his mind. I'm sorry to have to tell you this. First these nervous tics appeared, correct?"

"The hiccups and the stuttering, yes," he muttered. "His numb hand came later." _And the way that he followed me down the hall like my Padawan. And how flying wasn't as jaw-droppingly repellent as before._ Anakin glanced at his glove. _He felt my phantom arm pain ..._ "But you're wrong! Master is stronger than anyone I know!"

Luminara modulated her tone further, though she was still upset with him. "His shields aren't as strong as before; he's let down his guard with you. The guard of his mind. You came inside the essence of _him_" --- _in more ways than you know, Master Lu ---_ "when you got, ah, closer; if this condition continues, you will not be able to continue as a Master and Padawan pair." She locked eyes with Anakin and held herself taller in her seat as she told him, "As your and Obi-Wan's Healer, I couldn't allow it. I'm sorry." Luminara couldn't stop herself from apologizing again. She knew the depth of devotion that Obi-Wan was capable of, from his firm ties to Qui-Gon and his own friendship with her. She remembered their dinner together at the Elfin Sprite._ And he didn't drink his cocktail, abstaining just like you do._ "Um, Obi-Wan said there were no clashes with you on Trow, Anakin, and that you'd gotten even closer in some ways than before. I'm here to tell you that you need to back off whatever ways that you've changed your relationship" --- _and I might know how you've been changing it, it's the sleeping together thing, right, Anakin? ---_ "if you want him to return to health. It's for his greater good and, of course, yours, too."

_Greater good. _That's why the timing was never right to reinstate the Respect-For-Master's-Authority. Anakin brushed tears from his cheeks with a trembling hand. "I can't stop loving him, Master Lu."

She handed him a tissue. "Certainly not. Compassion makes us Jedi; you couldn't be you without love in your life." _I haven't his experiences. I don't know how difficult breaking off something like this is. The closest I can imagine is seeing Barriss walk away from me, braidless and free._ She unbent. "We've settled on the 'what,' and now Plo and I are homing in on the 'why.' For your sake as well as his, be gentle with your Master. This is for his health, Anakin; it's as if you knew he craved hoi-broth for lunch and you wouldn't give that to him, would you, if it were your turn to cook?"

Incipient hysteria choked Anakin. _Hoi-broth. She's comparing our __**love**__ to hoi-broth._ He brayed a laugh, building to a spate of bellylaughs that doubled him over with dull knives of pain. His diaphragm ached by the time he was done and he needed a fistful of tissues. Finally he stilled, worn out. "You'll tell him first, then, if Master Koon confirms?"

"I will."

"Because I can't. I can do many things, but I can't deliberately hurt him."

"We might be wrong; I surely do hope so. Master Koon will do the procedure after lunch. Obi-Wan is continuing his Visiting The Sick in the war-injury ward and we'll all three have a meal together. He won't need any kind of prep." _Sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind, young one. It's a Healer's credo. It's still difficult for me and I hope that doesn't ever change._ "Pull yourself together, Padawan Skywalker. He'll know you've been crying."

Anakin allowed Luminara to ghost her fingertips over his face, soothing away redness and the congestion of tears. _I'd rather keep them, like a badge of mourning. To commemorate these past months._

The river inverted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	104. Chapter 104

Part One Hundred Four

Plo Koon thought it beneficial to treat Obi-Wan in the Council chambers in the late afternoon. Quiet, that time of day. No infirmary antiseptic smell. Force-permeated. Peaceful view. Familiar. Somewhat ... formal. Conducive to reason. Luminara allowed Plo to lead her in this direction after this morning's face-off with Anakin. She had released her concerns to the Force, cleaned up the pitiful silver bodies, and brought along a large supply of tissues. _How I do hope we are wrong as wrong can be. _

Obi-Wan hesitated outside the chamber's doors and Luminara had a hideous vision of a soon-to-be-trapped animal sensing its danger. _Healer, heal yourself._ Schooling her expression, she led the way inside to where Plo admired the afternoon view. Or studied the view, or counted skyhoppers in his scientific way. His character remained off-putting, but Luminara was nothing if not professional. "Obi-Wan, let's sit."

"Very well." Obi-Wan sat in his regular seat, Plo in his, while Luminara gave in to impulse and sat in Master Yoda's, adjusting its repulsors for her height.

"Obi-Wan," Luminara began, "while you were on leave, I had many Jedi to treat, and not one for being a 'mental,' as you put it; therefore, you had my entire attention. In the month since I've seen you, I've searched other Force-sensitives' databases, even the Dathomiri, whose uncatalogued mess I hope never to touch again. These populations use various methods of finding each other in crisis situations._ Some_ are quite effective."

Plo Koon crossed his arms and his legs. _Don't argue with a Healer in front of her patient._ "Yes. Indubitably."

"I also installed a feed from the Republic teachers on Trow. They sent a probe droid along your journey, from point of entry into Gitchy to your last accommodations in the hotel near its shores." She showed her datapad's scroll to Obi-Wan. "Nothing inimical to you or to Anakin. No spores, toxins, miasmas, unusual radiation sources or water supply poisonings could it turn up. An indigenous mold came the closest to harm, but that was all."

Plo Koon tilted his head, folded his hands inside his robe sleeves and remembered his Kel Dor-human relations interview seminar that he attended as a Padawan. _Maintain eye-to-mask contact. Use the human's name often. _"Obi-Wan, we're fellow Councilmembers. Everything we do is for the common good of the Jedi, the peacekeepers of the Republic and the galaxy in general. So you, Obi-Wan, know that when I and Luminara suggest a telepathic diagnosis to confirm your condition, it is for the good of all concerned, Obi-Wan, especially for your Padawan." _Make it personal. Pull out all the nalargon stops._

"What the fuck for?"

_Oh, not good. _Luminara showed her datapad to Obi-Wan again, but he brushed it aside, pushing her repulsor chair one meter away. "I mean, it's _just_ a tremor," he argued. "Give me some stronger vitamins, or neuron blockers or something, but don't invade my mind!"

Luminara put down her datapad and Plo took over. "It's invasive, I can't lie to you. It doesn't hurt. I won't _tell_ any secrets. As a responsible Kel Dor, your mental pathways and especially your motivations are simply data for my protocols. If it _is_ my technique that harms anyone beyond a few behavioral changes, I have the responsibility to withdraw its use. If it is _not_" --- he regarded Luminara, but she could read no expression in his goggled eyes and he wasn't using body language at all --- "then further research into your case must be done. We can't have Jedi Councilmembers in jeopardy deciding crucial issues for the Order."

"In jeopardy of what?" Obi-Wan said his latest version of Luminara's lesson to himself. _Don't __**feel**__ so much._ "Lu?"

"We don't know exactly, but it may involve Anakin's affecting you in his capacity as the Chosen One, though not intentionally," Luminara put in swiftly. "I am your primary care provider, and I've called in help, Obi-Wan. Please let me do my job." He was her special friend since Ansion. They forged a bond there, a firm friendship. It would weather this. It would.

_What does my Padawan have to do with this?_ "What? What about Anakin?"

"Obi-Wan, this procedure may define a bit more what a Chosen One's abilities are! We as Jedi need to know this. Anakin needs to know about this." _Shameless, Luminara._

Plo Koon reached inside himself and came up with empathy. "Obi-Wan, you and I are brother Jedi; not friends, more than acquaintances. I do what's _best_ for the Order."_ Don't make me come over there and take what the Order needs._

In the end, Obi-Wan thought of the Force first, and then of Anakin, just like in his lesson. "All right. What do I do?" All three rose to their feet. It seemed better to commune in a three-sided huddle.

"Relax. Let me near. I don't need to touch you." Obi-Wan thought he could handle the approach of a near mind-rape, but stiffened at the last moment and pulled away, stumbling back three steps. Luminara and Plo steadied him with firm grips on his arms. He stiffened further, but didn't back away. Plo Koon wasn't like a psychometric Kiffar. He had merely to reach out with his mind to a receptive --- or not --- consciousness and dip inside for a 'statistical sample,' as he called it privately, of the being's self. He was a stern but not a cold Master. He was scientific, he told himself; others mostly agreed. "Obi-Wan, please!"

Luminara warned, "Obi-Wan, if you struggle and shield, you could harm yourself further. Please let Plo help me to help you. I'm, I'm at my wits' end here!" To Obi-Wan's ears, she was close to hysterics in her need to aid her friend. He didn't think it had to do with her wanting to finish diagnosing and be off to New Holstice after long weeks of delay, all on his behalf. He didn't want to think it, anyway.

"Hold yourself together, Obi-Wan, this will build your character --- " Plo shuffled along with Luminara as Obi-Wan twisted in their grip, Obi-Wan breaking free entirely of Luminara, who could think of nothing but Anakin's desperation earlier. They were more alike than they realized. It began to frighten her.

" --- I have character to burn --- _I_ _said let_ _**GO**_ _of me, Plo!_ --- I am loaded to the fucking _gills_ with character, what I _want_ is Anakin!" The part of Obi-Wan that was embarrassed by his lack of control submerged again and there was only the truth of his cry echoing in the chamber. This was his condition talking while the rest of him exploded as he pushed away from his fellow Councilmember. Luminara touched him with her Healer's hands, but he pushed away from her, too. She pursued him until they came to a stop in the middle of the chamber. Plo stepped up to Obi-Wan's other side, bracketing the distraught Master between Luminara and himself.

"I don't want to involve the others, Obi-Wan. You don't want me to, either. There, there, now, breathe. Let me in. I can help." Plo's telepathy oozed its way into Obi-Wan's brainpan, over each corrugation of his cerebrum, down the corpus callosum, straight to the brainstem. Obi-Wan had never felt invaded like this before and the fact that it came from a colleague only made it worse. He breathed shallowly in tiny puffs, fighting off the urge to shield mightily as he had never done previously, and didn't calm when Plo withdrew. Obi-Wan yanked away and paced in front of his own Council seat.

"Hmmm."

"What? What's 'hmmm'?"

"You're conflicted."

"No shit, Plo."

As a Kel Dor, Plo regarded anything other than black and white issues with distaste. It was his respect for Obi-Wan that kept it from appearing in his voice or manner. "More than psychically, I mean. It's like your midichlorians are responsible for it; some have changed their polarity." Physics were fascinating, always._ And it wasn't my imprinting protocols. Whew. It has to do with Anakin's status as Chosen One defiling his Master somehow. I'm glad my part of this is over with._

"_Polarity_? Midichlorians can have polarity _separate_ from the other parts of my cells?" Polarity meant negative and positive charges. And if they were changing, whatever would before have been attracted to him would switch to being repelled. Did this apply to beings' minds, or physicality, or magnetic fields or ...

"And the conflict is that you are fighting it. You are fighting to stay the same, but you're in danger of being overwhelmed by something stronger. The conflict is unbalancing your mind. It's nearly touching your soul." Physics may be fascinating in this case, but as a Jedi, Plo felt deep compassion for Obi-Wan and Anakin. The sentiment shocked him somewhat, and he backed off from it. He would examine it later. "_Wanting" Anakin, what does __**that **__mean? Wanting him to do what? _Plo himself wanted nothing so much as to retreat to his laboratory and update his protocols.

"You can't have Anakin the way you want without going insane," said Luminara softly. _Not a psychosomatic, but a somatopsychic origin for his troubles. I'm here for you, Obs._ "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan; you're my own dear friend and I know that this hurts. I've researched for weeks and this is the news that I have for you ... I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan's legs shook and he sat down in his seat. Head in his hands, he felt tears building up and blinked them back. A sick fear lanced through him; different than battlefield nerves, different than fear for his Padawan's wellbeing. It would take time to work through and release this one. This was a primal fear of losing one's self, all that one could claim in meek acceptance of existence. This was real, this was true. Obi-Wan wanted to faint and make it all go away, but he couldn't. He had some planning to do.

The river disappeared.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	105. Chapter 105

Part One Hundred Five

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Soup's on."

"All right." Obi-Wan and Anakin sat stiffly through a light supper of runyip stew and scrimpi. Anakin couldn't muster up the appetite to add his favorite glockaw sauce to the dish. Afterwards, they watched an ongoing HoloNet series called _The Gloom Walkers At A Gallop, _portraying the The New Sith War as a historical drama with two especially involving leads, soldiers in a Dark Lord's army whose careers and private lives enthralled them. Or at least they used to, before this.

"Going to bed. I'm tired."

"You must be. How ... how was it?"

"Like having no air to breathe, right before you drown. Like how I felt on Sugnid, when you breathed for me and _**I couldn't help myself.**_ Having Plo inside me was ... was ... "

_Uh-oh. When the Negotiator runs out of words, it's bad._ Anakin clapped both arms around him and pulled him down sideways until Obi-Wan's head lay in Anakin's lap. They stared at the emoting soldiers portraying long ago events with up-to-the-latest political attitudes and slang. It seemed disconcerting now. Obi-Wan pulled his knees up to fit on their sofa. _It's almost a fetal position._ Anakin rubbed his Master's head, the temples, the jawbone whose bristles chafed him delightfully, the tense sagittals like cables of durasteel. He said, "HoloNet off!" in a loud voice because Obi-Wan had chided him yesterday morning about using the Force frivolously too _many_ times. It was a fine line to walk and Anakin usually allowed Obi-Wan to walk it for him. _Yesterday. Things were different yesterday. _They rested quietly for nearly an hour.

"I'm sorry."

"Master, no."

_"Yes,_ I'm sorry. You didn't need this in your life. You're a Senior Padawan, you, you, ought to be taking your Trials right now. I changed my mind. You're ready."

"I'm not ready, you know I'm not, _I_ know I'm not."

Obi-Wan's voice squeaked. _"Yes, _you _are. _What other trial do you need, anyway? Trial of the Flesh --- your arm. Check. Trial of Training With A Broken-down Master. Check." There were tears in Master's voice, but none soaking the front of Anakin's watching-HoloNet-outfit of almost worn-through sleep pants and the shirt with the holes in it. _It's all right, Master. Or it will __**be**__ all right. Master Lu said so._

"I know."

_Huh?_

"I said, 'I know.'"

_// Master, we're, we're ... //_

_// We seem to have reached an unknown level of imprinting, Padawan. //_

_// H-How?//_

_// Don't know. Don't __**care.**__ Just enjoy it. //_

_// How long will it last?//_

_// whirrrrr ... WHIRRRRRR... clonk. __Perhaps until I start to recuperate. //_

_// What's that __**sound?//**_

_// I was thinking. //_

_// I can __**hear**__ it! I can __**hear **__you ... negotiate. //_

_// Ha. Thanks for the laugh. I needed it. //_

_// Master, you look clean and blue inside. //_

_// Blue?//_

_// No, wait, now you're Tatooine-summer sky blue. //_

_// When __**isn't**__ it summer there?//_

_// 'Ha' back at you. This is ... wonderful. Our new bond. //_

_// Better than ever. //_

_// Yes. __prrrrrrrrrr ..._

_// Anakin! I can __**hear**__ how contented you are! More data for Plo's protocols. Won't he be surprised?//_

_// He's a telepath and he devised the imprinting. __**Would**__ this development surprise him?//_

_// Food for thought. Literally. Ha. Hahaha. //_

_// snicker, snort //_

_// Bwahahahahahha//_

_// Pppppbbbbllllheeheehee__ // "_Ow."

"Yes, it's ... intense. Maybe _too_ intense to sustain for long. My head hurts now."

_Time to be a Padawan. _"Let's go to bed." Slipping between their luxurious sheets beside Anakin, Obi-Wan added a slight hand tremor to his dull headache. It didn't bother him as much as it did. They cuddled dreamily. "Things are looking up. Even if we won't exactly be like we were. This, this new bond is _good_, Master." _And Master Lu said that if we aren't close like we were anymore, Master's recovery will be complete._

"I agree. Please stop humping my leg, Anakin."

"Oh. Sorry, sweetheart."

_'Sweetheart.' My._ "Maybe we should separate our sleeping quarters for awhile until you and I get used to the idea. Perhaps you could visit your friend Senator Amidala for a night or two." _It had to be said._

Silence. "Why do you say that?"

"She _is_ your friend. She has her own spacious" --- _bed_ --- "apartment. You're lovers." _When you return to __**me**__, as I know you will now, our new bed will have arrived from Phlog-Train. Surprise, baby._

"Not anymore, we're not."

_Good._ "Have you told her? Allowed her to move on?"

Anakin's scowl could be felt in the darkness. "No. Haven't commed her in weeks. She has not commed me, either."

_Double good. _"It's quite early. You and I could rest a bit now, and you could go out to see her later." Obi-Wan regulated his heartrate and breathing. "I wouldn't mind."

Even though they were merely touching physically, Obi-Wan knew it when Anakin's thoughts turned bleak once more. Obi-Wan snaked his twitching hand over to Anakin's flesh fist and held it as best he could under the blanket. "If Master Lu's mistaken about your prognosis" --- _again_ --- "what'll we do, Master? I can't lose you, I can't." _I lost Mom. I don't have any friends outside the Order; Cliegg and Owen and Beru and all the rest of the Tatooine crowd are far away. Well, Dex is in a category by himself. Padmé isn't who I thought she was; she doesn't call me 'Ani' anymore._ Suddenly Anakin thought it appropriate that he wasn't 'Ani' to anyone. Mom and Qui-Gon most likely would have stopped calling him that by now had they lived. His relationship with Padmé was a link to their memories. Obi-Wan and the droids remained as reminders, too, but they never had called him 'Ani.' _Another step towards maturity. Does it feel like this for everyone?_

"Anakin, I won't lose you, I won't lose me, I won't lose us. We'll return to what we were before Trow." _It will kill my heart to see you every day --- and night --- and not touch your lips with mine. How did I live without them? _"I'll share your bed for companionship and you'll share mine, Padawan. But not all the time, and not in the way that we love."

_Was it enough? Did the dream on Trow that seemed so true remain true? _The Force's timetable should be clearer, Anakin grumbled. Were these months of togetherness long enough to prevent the bad event hidden by the fog? Together in every possible way in nearly every moment, planning their life together without interruption from anyone, even after Knighthood cut his braid. He remembered thinking in the hotel room in Nepsa that love nourishes, it doesn't consume either the lover or the loved one. '_One.' _He admitted that he hadn't thought through the details about Padmé's role; in one wild flight of fancy, he'd imagined the three of them all living together in her --- _their_ --- apartment in grand style with epic nights of mutual love between the three of them involving cleverly-clued scavenger hunts and fully-polarized privacy curtains on the balcony. _The classic balcony with its trickling water features, fountains whose wide, smooth edges were absolutely the right height for ... _"It'll be difficult, Master."

"Anakin, we are Jedi. We knew it was a hard life going in. When Master Yoda cut my braid, I knew it. When I cut yours, you'll know it. Whoever you know so intimately as to call" --- '_wife'; it slipped through your shields this time, my own --- _"friend will know it." Obi-Wan with all his might shielded Anakin's essence from his, allowing only the training bond's shining thread to remain, as it was before these last long months, before Trow, before their new bond that might be ephemeral. Their new life would not be too much of a burden to carry if they shared it. The Force would help, since they were Jedi. _Kriffing visions!_

By following both their deepest wishes and Anakin's vision set in a fearsomely foggy Room Of A Thousand Fountains, they succeeded in becoming closer. Obi-Wan had looked into a star up close without shading his eyes. He could not face being blinded, never, because even a quick glance at the star that was Anakin and then away was enough to leave spots soiling his vision. Full on viewing for a long time would blind him irreversibly. For his own sake and for Anakin's, for the Order's and in honor of Qui-Gon's dying wish, he wouldn't sacrifice himself to such a horrifying fate. It wasn't an option at all, though part of him would shrivel if he couldn't go beyond the fraternal pat on the shoulder or comradely hug with Anakin. He would suck it up and soldier on. He would grieve sometimes, though. Trow's legacy deserved that much. _Starting with tonight. _

"But what if you need me in the night?"

"I'm not that much under the weather. We've imprinted, we won't lose each other. I need some space tonight."

The river absconded.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo


	106. Chapter 106

Part One Hundred Six

"Late _tonight_, Anakin? I can only get away for dinner. Can't you make it for dinner?" This was disappointing to have their first meeting after many weeks on her busy night and Padmé thought she knew why Anakin couldn't spend more time with her. _He's fussing over Obi-Wan. If I were another sort of wife, I'd fume and pout._ "Dinner will be glum without you, Anakin. I've missed you. We need to talk about our work the way that we used to, and of course, other things as well." _But life is less and less glum as time goes by and I become more accustomed to takeout, and concerts, and handmaidens taking up my evenings. You were right; things did work out._

"Padmé, what are you doing after dinner that you can't see me then?" _I'm not beating around the bush with you ever again._

"I've been home just a little while, but I had plans for later on."

_Not good enough. _"What plans?"

"I was going out. You seemed concerned that I enjoy myself."

"I was." _The more fool, I. _"Please postpone your plans, Padmé. I need to talk to you."

_He can't put it any plainer than that. _"All right, Anakin. Let's meet in the Maze, then."

"I'd rather not. Let's meet in our _home_."

_Play it cool, Padmé._ "If you insist. About midnight?"

"A bit before, if it's convenient, sure. See you then. Skywalker out." Anakin placed the dedicated audio-only-comm that had replaced the one put to Sidious' nefarious use in the nightstand drawer in his own room. There was no need to hide it in his sock drawer anymore, or under the bed. That felt remarkably good. He adjusted his privacy earbud so as not to awaken Obi-Wan and went into the common room to watch a vid until it was time to leave.

xxxxx

"Ommané, Anakin's coming over. Tonight."

_I heard. I wasn't asleep. _"_Yes,_ Milady. Will that be all, _Milady?"_

"Don't be that way. You'll leave bad ... emanations ... behind and he'll pick up on them." _Am I paranoid after being spied upon in my own home? Yes, Padmé, you are._

Ommané rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled the sleeveless orange sheath over her head, this season's handmaiden's uniform, and twisted to eye her employer disbelievingly. "He can _do_ that?"

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know." When did her respect for the Jedi and their ways become tinged with fear? _Since Master Yoda commed me two weeks ago for a midnight meeting at Dex's, __**that's**__ when. _Ommané had scanned the slumming after-theater crowd for papparazzi as she watched the meeting discreetly from the counter seating. She saw Master Yoda lean in confidentially from the height-enhancing seat provided gratuitously by Dex to patrons of shorter stature than Galactic-average. She saw her employer absorb the important secret and lose her studied poise. She saw Padmé's mouth drop open. Ommané allowed WA-7 to run over her toes deliberately to create a diversion and in the confusion afterwards, there were no flashing holocams in action around Padmé. Ommané had done her job well. Padmé slid an arm around Ommané's waist before she could rise to leave and pulled her back into bed. She rubbed Ommané's left middle toes reminiscently.

xxxxx

"Senator Amidala."

"Master Yoda."

"A late meal, you want?" _Warm feelings, galaxy-wide, they are. Immune, no being is._

_What?_ "No, thank you for the thought. Your message sounded mysterious, disturbingly so."

Yoda's attempt at casualness eroded. _On to business, we should get. A war on, there is._ "Yes. For your ears and very few others, this news is. Whisper it, I shall."

Padmé leaned over obligingly. Master Yoda smelled of damp fertile soil and a virile old age. His warm scaled palm was pleasant on her forearm as he steadied her to divulge the secret. _"Senator, your colleague Palpatine, the Sith Lord Master, he was. Confidential, this must remain."_

The crowd's chatter surged in and out of Padmé's consciousness. _Master Yoda isn't lying._ She pulled back from his hand and they were head-to-head. His citrine eyes, hooded with great wisdom, held only truth. Was it the Force that told her this? Was it his small form, embodying power that put her upcoming likely Vice-Chancellorship-Pro-Tem appointment to shame? Chancellor-Pro-Tem Bail Organa thought she was ready for a more responsible position; she thought Ommané was; Jar-Jar assuredly was not. _Meh. A problem for tomorrow. Now answer me a question, Grand Master. _"Why are you telling _me_ this, Master Yoda?"

He still spoke in a low, private voice. Its unusual tones rumbled through Padmé's brain, as close as she was. "A warning, this is, as well as evidence of the trust that I --- that the _Jedi_ --- place in you. Draw near to others" --- he leaned into her shoulder --- "without knowing their true nature, do not. One in your close confidence, beware of. One whom you trust, wants more than she is ready for." _"She." _"Using your _needs_ to climb into seat of power, she is. Know this, you should." His gaze pierced her. "Power, reined in it must be to be controlled. Age only brings this control. Useful, it is. Desired by many, held by few." _As clearly as decades ago, I see in the Force since the Dark Lord with his spying propensities is no more._ Yoda withdrew from their huddle and Padmé's arm tingled afterwards. A Force-manifestation, she surmised.

A closer alliance with Master Yoda would cement the Senate-Jedi connection into unheard-of solidarity. She eyed the small Master speculatively; a frisson of fear brought her back to herself. _If a Palpatine could turn to the bad, why not a Yoda?_ Ommané wanted to be Senator someday. She had Padmé's background nearly duplicated, so why shouldn't she be the first handmaiden to be Senator-Pro-Tem, or even a Senior Senator-Pro-Tem? Ommané flew the Torpedo exclusively now; Padmé hadn't flown herself about in some time, and was relieved not to. She didn't need any more docking and reckless flying tickets on her record. Ommané did all the shopping, too, since Threepio remained inoperable for the near future. Little by little, Ommané made herself indispensable to Padmé, demonstrating her breadth of abilities, with the other handmaidens' complicity. In the general shuffle-up, they might gain more influence than they had bargained for when accepting their positions, or they might simply be patriotic Nubians in seeking to subvert the logical promotion of Jar-Jar Binks to Senior Senator. Padmé ended her ruminations and caressed Ommané's instep before allowing her to rise and leave. In a partially successful effort to turn Ommané's frown into a grudging smile, she sucked Ommané's middle toes. Ommané gathered her few scattered things and stuffed them into her carryall. "I see it's back to the Duty Quarters for _me._"

"I'm afraid so. He _is_ my husband and has ... rights."

Ommané said pertly, "He has much to learn, though, I'm betting."

Padmé stared her down. "Goodnight, Ommané."

_You're ambitious. So was I. I can handle her, Master Yoda, but thanks for the tip anyway. I owe you another one, and I need to think of a way to pay you --- I mean, the Jedi --- back._

The river shrank.

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	107. Chapter 107

Part One Hundred Seven

"Hello, Anakin."

"Good evening, Padmé."

Padmé, trying for sauciness, tossed her head. "You haven't talked to me since the funeral."

"You haven't commed _me_, either." Anakin didn't know he could keep this level-headed with her. Was Obi-Wan's thirty-six-year old head with its thirty-six-year old attitudes mapped onto _him,_ now? If so, that would make him eleven years _older_ than Padmé. _What a switch_. "We must discuss the funeral first."

Padmé melted a little. _He might not know about Palpatine being Sith. To Anakin, Anakin's dear friend __**died.**_ "You did eulogize him well. Everyone said so," she offered.

"I told the simple truth." The complex truth, now, that was something else, and it needed to come out tonight. _I'll stay this one night with her. If Master needs more privacy, I'll stay at Dex's. Or Tru's. Or, or on my own, in Temple or out of it. I'm my own man. Master won't ask me to reinstate the Respect-for-Master's-Authority __**now**__, for kriff's sake._

Was Palpatine's Sith-Mastery on a need-to-know basis with Yoda's fellow Jedi? Yoda may not have told Anakin _or_ Obi-Wan due to Anakin's closeness to Palpatine and Obi-Wan's closeness to Anakin. _Go slow, Senator._ On impulse, Padmé led the way into the bedroom, kicked off her brocaded house shoes and pulled out a pillow from under the duvet. She sat on the pillow's spot, but clutched the pillow itself over her stomach, grabbing each elbow to rest her arms on it as she drew up her knees. "Sit down," she invited cordially.

"All right." This was unexpected. Anakin removed his boots and belt. The tabards slipped from his shoulders as they always did without the belt. He hesitated a moment and then placed the tabards on Padmé's vanity stool and the boots neatly beneath. _Now I've contracted Obi-Wan's fastidiousness. _He climbed onto his side of the bed, leaning up against the headboard with a pillow against his back. He crossed his arms tightly, not wanting to slip into dangerous informality.

They sat remembering for a moment until Padmé forged ahead out of their past. "The funeral, you said?"

Anakin cleared his throat. "I said all those nice things about Palpatine, Padmé, because the Republic did not need to know that he was a Sith." He shot a look over at her, but beyond widening her warm brown eyes, she didn't react.

"Yes. Master Yoda told me. He thinks I need to 'beware of false friends.' He's a sweet, uh, a sweet --- "

"Jedi."

_Where to begin. _"Padmé, Sidious spied on your bedroom, using Artoo and Threepio as agents, probably from right over _there"_ --- he pointed to a spot on the carpet one meter away and Padmé started --- "by scrambling the droids' algorithms with the spychip that I retrieved that night. It was Sidious' Sithly visage looking at us, his Sithly _death_ that I caused when I blocked the power surge using the Force and it reversed itself into a killing charge at the other end of the transmission. He was sitting at his desk, _leering_ at both of us when he died."

Padmé paled. _Palpatine's worse that I could have imagined. Ommané. Palpatine, no, Sidious, knew about Ommané and me and was watching us ... oh ... a Sith, in my bedroom ... uhh ... he was blackmailing me into 'good' behavior, the ... the ... _"The Chosen One. You really _are_ the Chosen One, why else would the Force have you be with me in that place and at that time to protect me, no, _not_ just me, but the whole _Republic_ from further Sithly influence. Anakin. You ... and I ... uh ..." Padmé floundered for words.

Anakin seemed to have gained in loquacity, somehow. Different than her 'Ani.' "The Force isn't doing anything different than it generally does, Padmé. It is an energy field, binding the Galaxy together, giving us our power. Whether or not I am the Chosen One" --- _and I am weary of thinking of if I am or not, but never mind that now ---_ "is beside the point of why I came by tonight. The point is, is that Palpatine's death led me to discover his dishonorable plot to peer into your private life and it has shown me that you have a lover."

_He doesn't know who it is. Worse and worse. I've cheated on a Chosen One with tremendous power._ Padmé never had lacked physical or moral courage, though, and spoke from her principles. "I'll not pretend otherwise. You'd probably divine it somehow. I will _not_ volunteer any names." _He'll rip it out of my mind. _

Anakin studied her beauty. White-faced and breathing nervously in shallow gasps as she was, she was still beautiful to him. _She is __**afraid**__ of me. _That he had wanted her at all seemed unlikely. But he had. He sighed. "Padmé, I'll not hurt you. Believe it or not, the infidelity doesn't hurt the way it did when I first found it out. A lot has happened since then. Master Obi-Wan has been very ill, I've been back to Tatooine to come to terms with the Sandpeople, and the fact that you won't tell me who it is shows me your honor is remarkably adjustable." She didn't defend herself against this charge. He wondered about it for a few minutes, then decided to look beyond it to necessities. "I need a place to stay. Is it too much to ask to spend the night?"_ It's my home, too, but what a homecoming. Living Force, help me out here. Make this scene not __**quite**__ so grim._

_What would Mama do?_ "I won't turn you away, even though your name is not on the lease." _Just like Obi-Wan would have, he didn't even grin._

"Thank you." Anakin stood and started to strip unselfconsciously. He folded himself into bed beside her after placing his mechno-arm carefully on the vanity stool under his tunics. Padmé, too, needed rest after her lunchtime synchronized swimming session with Jar-Jar and Gorothin Vagger. They had gotten themselves into a competitive mood and when Padmé had joined them for what she thought would be the usual slow graceful moves, they had induced her to tuck herself up into a ball and had tossed her back and forth between them. She had barely been able to dress herself in her street clothes again from fatigue and Ommané remarked when she picked Padmé up in the Torpedo afterwards that Solleu River ducks at least groomed themselves after a swim. Padmé grumped back that the ducks were fortunate not to have an enthusiastic Gungan and an Andoan with homesickness issues as their synchronized swimming partners.

Anakin sensed Padmé's fatigue along with her general fugue. _Revelations do that to you. I never want to live through another day like today, myself. _They lay on their backs without touching, two young people who had beautiful exteriors and complicated interiors. It seemed a shame that they wouldn't fully exploit their proximity, but the Namana liquor was in the kitchen cupboard, Padmé lacked the energy to fetch it, and besides, Anakin abstained. _Or would he need to now, since he had fulfilled his Chosen One's duty? _It was an intriguing thought, especially since Obi-Wan enjoyed his dram on occasion. Padmé fell asleep wondering about it.

The river drowsed.

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	108. Chapter 108

Part One Hundred Eight

_"Marriage, thy name is_

_depression. White dresses bring_

_black thoughts as years pass."_

"Stars, Padmé, did you write this?" Anakin held the crumpled cocktail napkin in two fingers. The smeared writing was barely legible and the napkin was soaked with orange Namana liquor on one end and what might have been tears at the other.

Padmé's stomach burbled at Anakin's too-loud voice. She hadn't had a male around her in the morning in quite some time, and their forcefulness now was unwelcome. She drew her hair over her eyes to shade them from the morning sun. _Too early to talk. I need one of Ommané's Namana Neuronumb pick-me-ups._ But she was not entirely without strength and managed to sit up in the bed, lowering her head to her drawn-up knees. "No. Ommané. She has a low opinion of the married state."

"I'm not surprised. She's only seventeen. Great commitments like marriage scare her. I know they did me when _I_ was seventeen." _Except commitments to Obi-Wan and the Order. The Force isn't a commitment; it's more like breathing regularly, no thought required at all. _He refastened his mechno-arm, not noticing how the small _tssh_ sound made Padmé flinch or how she looked more nauseated than before when he flexed it to reseat the connections firmly. "Aren't you getting dressed? The sun has been up for half an hour already." His morning meditation had gone well. All things disturbing the Force around his own presence, so tumultuous lately, had smoothed considerably, like the eye of a storm had already passed him, and only the smaller outlying gusts remained.

Padmé peered out through her hair and noticed that Anakin's expression wore a resemblance to Obi-Wan's more mature Jedi equanimity. _He is more like Obi-Wan than he knows. And less like the boy I married._ Padmé forced herself to think of the changes coming up in her life. Palpatine's death, the revelation of his true Sith nature to a select few outside the Jedi, the opening of his Chancellor position to Bail and her own possible appointment by him to the Vice-Chancellorship would rock her personal speederboat, and anything not secured with lanyards of durasteel would fly overboard. She wondered which valuables she would secure and which she would allow to turn into jetsam. "Anakin, it's early. I've been going out at night, remember? My handmaidens and I" --- _have a tremendous time listening to ColdCuts and getting to know the group __**much**__ better by following their gigs --- "_hit several nightspots nearly every outing and I'm, I'm having enjoyable evenings. You _did_ say to have fun when you're not around. I have been."

Anakin usually pulled on the minimal amount of clothing for modesty when he meditated and left the rest for afterwards. The boots' fastenings gave him trouble this morning and Anakin sat on the bed and bent far over, his muscled back limned in curves of shadow that Padmé remembered liking to trace. She reached out to touch his scapula, but he finished with the recalcitrant buckles and stood up, grabbing his tunics and belt from the vanity stool and donning them with the ease of over a decade's practice. The moment passed. _I always did like fast. Even for something like this. _Padmé resigned herself to dragging along all day in fatigue and put on her foundation garment, wishing for Ommané's quick helping hands. By the time she had on her primary under-robe, her nerves jangled and by the time she sat at the vanity, ready for her makeup and jewelry, she was nearly trembling. She looked at herself in the mirror and didn't know or much like the woman who looked back.

_My wife. I think I'll look her over. To remind myself of a marriage that's fading._ It unnerved Anakin to see Padmé in fear of her own husband. Didn't she know of the Jedi code? He knew she did. "There is no emotion, there is peace." While he had problems with it many times himself, Padmé had proven remarkably strong and Jedi-like in the beast arena, while rescuing Obi-Wan, and surviving the kouhuns' sneak attack. It hadn't all been bravado, had it? No. She was truly strong, and now she was truly afraid. He caressed with his eyes the curves that were now covered by a septsilk sheath of flaming red, cut on the bias to form a clinging garment with a ruffled neckline. She was perfectly proportioned. It galled him to think of Palpatine's, or Organa's, or someone else's _paws_ on her beauty. _Hang on, Anakin. It must be someone she knows, at least; she wouldn't have joined one of those sex clubs, would she? New partner every time, chat each other up for three minutes, move along at the gong? Pick out the most promising partner?_ "Padmé."

"What."

"I won't hurt you. I know you're unhappy with me." On Trow, he had wondered if she would hate him when she saw him again for what he and Obi-Wan had done to become closer. This didn't feel like hate, but what else could he call it? "You don't have to be afraid. Obi-Wan and I are together. I won't stand in your way if you want a divorce."

Padmé's hands shook in relief and she dropped a suspensa earring, its tempered metal flexing enough to make it bounce far under the bed. "Kriff!"_ Talk, Padmé, talk. You'll explode otherwise._

Anakin bent down on one knee to rummage under the bed. He swept his mechno-hand over the unseen space, thumbing his pinkie's first knuckle to activate the magnetization bar in it. After a moment, he pulled out his arm.

_Living a lie isn't even a little fun anymore._ Padmé's husband held up her dropped earring in one hand and a red stiletto pump in the other. "Whose shoe?"

"Ommané's. She's been my closet, uh, _closest_, helper since you've been away so much." Anakin wasn't stupid; he knew she hadn't warmed to him as she had before his return from Trow. _Kriff again._

Anakin put the shoe on the floor under the vanity and stood behind Padmé, refastening her earring by driving the long coppery suspensa shank through the single hole in her lobe. He fingered a curl before seductively draping it to half-conceal her ear. Anakin adjusted the curl on the other side to match, not meeting Padmé's eyes in the mirror, but sensing that she was regarding him apprehensively. _And I was worried that she was lonely. This may be why she never went down on me. Or maybe not._ "Ommané." _That's the one with the haircolor like mine, looks around slyly even when there's nothing to look __**at**_.

_Out with it._ "Yes, Anakin, she sleeps here occasionally. Her quarters aren't as spacious and when I need her at night she's right there."

"We can't go on being married, Padmé, it's, it's" --- "_Breaking News: Forbidden Love Story Of Jedi Monk And Overachieving Politician Reaches Tawdry End! Both Parties Cheat In Same-Sex Scandal! Force Admits Nothing Despite Repeated Inquiries." But it isn't like that, it isn't, it isn't --- "_about sex, isn't it. Is she better in bed than me?"

_Yes._ "No, but she's here and you're not, Anakin. We have similar backgrounds, similar goals, we enjoy scramball matches" --- _but she doesn't ever attend my synchronized swimming competitions except in her professional capacity --- _"she's a better match in height --- "

"What?" He had managed to complete three of the four parts of his invented Telling-Upsetting-News kata with her. He and Padmé were breaking up, but the more she spoke, the more he knew he would not be able to cheer her on in her new endeavors as he had cheered on the scramball team he had left in midseason. This would be a kata he'd never complete, but he didn't care now. If there were a Merit Bead for this kata, he imagined it to be deepest black.

"Yes, well, with you sometimes I get a crick in my neck and --- "

"That's enough," Anakin said roughly. This wasn't his angel talking anymore; this was more like those angels on the moons of Iego who smiled but had pointed teeth to shred and maim.

"Anakin. I've grown in a different direction and so have you, with Obi-Wan. I'll admit the thought of you two together fascinates me, but I've had months to think about my place in all this and it's time for us both to move on. So you do what the Force wants and I'll do what I want. Threepio and Artoo can be mindwiped about our marriage if it's still in their circuits and it's over for us both." _No kids. No home to break up, really. We'll go our separate ways. _"I'm keeping the droids, by the way."

"And I suppose that I get visitation rights?" _I __**made**__ Threepio. To help Mom. This isn't over yet, Padmé._

"Of course. And you can handle the wipes, too. You're the one to do it. And I never did thank you properly for uncovering Palpatine's dirty scheme. Shall we call things even with a farewell fuck?" Padmé thought it was a generous offer. She might even miss having sex with him, for a while, anyway.

The word jolted the room, the Force whispered 'no' and Anakin agreed. That night as he lay achingly hard next to an exhausted, snoring Obi-Wan in their new four-poster Phlog-sized bed, Anakin stared through the darkness at their ceiling, which rolled back to show in flickering blue the steeply-arched bridge in his original dream on Trow. He'd shared a bed platonically with Master that night, too. From his firm stance on his and Obi-Wan's side of the babbling stream, he spied across the way two tiny amorphous possibilities of life before they winked out as if they had never been. The fog shrouding the necessity of their birth lifted, leaving the Room of One Thousand Fountains soothingly humid with a light mist, as it always had looked and now always would look. The bridge would have led him to the dark side through some desperate need to save ... dear ones ... he squinted, but couldn't see who ... and it was only Obi-Wan's forceful pushes down the canted steps keeping him in the Light. _I was wrong the first time that I interpreted it; it's like __**my**__ polarity has been reversed. _All his anger, doubt, and disappointment over his and his Master's and even Padmé's actions disappeared. Maturity, painful maturity, cracked his heart, and as he took himself in hand, he knew that he could live with infinite yearning.

THE RIVER FINISHED.

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I would like to thank the reader/reviewers, who made my ... months, really, from February to June 2007. For each one of you, a bubble from Gitchy.OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

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